


I will never disappear,

by ExasperantMadman



Series: a case of you [2]
Category: Dead by Daylight (Video Game)
Genre: Angst, F/M, Fluff, Gen, Inktober 2019, Legion shenanigans, M/M, More tags to be added, Multi, Sexual Themes, Some gore but nothing explicit, like honestly it's so cheesy i melt into cheese, some really self-indulgent things
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-10
Updated: 2019-10-31
Packaged: 2020-12-07 15:17:43
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 31
Words: 22,933
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20978039
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ExasperantMadman/pseuds/ExasperantMadman
Summary: A collection of short drabbles for Inktober, based on the official Inktober list for this year.This fic is centric around The Legion and Jeff, mainly their relationships and interactions with references tothis fic. This work is a creative outlet for a growing story with references to other things as well.As always thanks to my bootiful patientmusefor puting up with my dummy butt.





	1. ring

**Author's Note:**

  * For [eymelee](https://archiveofourown.org/users/eymelee/gifts).
**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this is the cheesiest thing i've ever written honestly

It was a particularly chill day, or rather, perpetual night. Jeff's had a couple of trials that went relatively well, even snuck some quality loot from two of them right before making his hasty escape. So given how he's performed well enough to appease The Boss, he's headed towards Mount Ormond to hang out with his lovable misfits. 

"Hello," he calls upon entering the lodge, shaking off the excess snow covering his padded brown jacket. The only response he hears to his call are rushed footsteps on the floorboards above, then muted indiscernible whispers. 

"Anyone home?" he asks, but when he gets no response besides the same quick footsteps and running, he shrugs. 

With a shiver, Jeff climbs down the few steps to the firepit, intent on warming up while he waits for someone - anyone - to come down. Once settled comfortably on the cushions, he fishes in the insides of his jacket for his sketchbook, deciding to pass the time by touching upon his latest sketch. 

Time flies faster when you've got an occupation, but Jeff is completely absorbed in his pastime enjoying the peace and quiet nurturing his muse. Thus, he's quite shocked back to reality when a body is literally flung at him, knocking him on his side with a startled grunt. Joey laughs wholeheartedly from on top of him, as Jeff berates him for the scare he gave him - but he smiles throughout it all, unable to ever be upset at him. 

Just as he rights himself back up, retrieving his sketchbook from where it fell, Jeff finds himself once more tackled back into the pillows, a flurry of pink and blonde in his sight. 

"Jeff!" Susie exclaims, wrapping her arms around his neck full of glee, " whatchu' drawing?" she slurs through her lisp ever-present due to her braces. Julie slides past her, opting to simply give him a peck on the lips as a greeting before settling on the cushions by Joey's side with a knowing smirk.

"I was drawing Amanda," he reveals once he rights himself back up for a second time, "had a sick trial against her where she did this wicked dash from a balcony on Haddonfield onto the cars in the streets." He re-opens his sketchbook back to his drawing, showing the others the silhouette sketched, soaring through the air with her knife at the ready.

"Radical," Joey flashes him a thumbs-up as the girls take the sketchbook to inspect the drawing closer. 

"Where's Frank?" Jeff asks, eager to see the love of his life. 

"Closer than you think," comes Frank's ominous answer, starling Jeff into quickly turning in the direction of the voice, just in time to get headbutted by said man, who joins the game of let's-fling-ourselves-at-jeff-cause-it's-fun, and launches themselves with full speed on the other, bringing them both crashing to the ground. This time, Jeff is quite dazed from the head-on collision, audibly groaning and covering his face in pain; Frank insistently pries at his fingers, obnoxiously making smooching noises and kissing all over his face before eventually, Jeff pushes him off of him. 

"Why are you all so aggressively affectionate?" Jeff asks in genuine wonder when he settles back on the couch, instantly being surrounded by the members, who seem intent on suffocating him in their body mass. 

"Cause we love you!" Susie exclaims from her snug position at his side, Joey mirroring her on the opposite side, having snuck himself comfortably under Jeff's arm. 

"And we have something important to ask you," Julie reveals from her relaxed position across Joey's backside - her hand idly playing with a couple of ruffled strands of Jeff's hair. 

Confused but curious, Jeff takes in their body language, one by one observing each member in sight, whom in turn look back at him with bated breaths and intense adoring expressions. His attention goes to Frank, who has settled on the floor in front of him on one knee. 

"Jeff," Frank starts, and Jeff can already feel his heart picking up in speed, "I think I've loved you since that day we started talking at the blockbuster. It sounds stupid as fuck but, I think I was lost until I've found you again in this hell. You and the Legion are the reason why I keep carrying on, even when I want to go ape shit and burn this shithole to the ground." Jeff watches dumbstruck as Frank searches for something in his pockets, a rush of breath escaping past his lips when Frank pulls out a silver ring in mint condition.

"I know I'm an idiot, and I know I do a lot of stupid shit without thinking. But I've thought long and hard about this. And I think I really, really, want to marry you. " Frank declares with a great determination that knocks Jeff back on the backrest of the cushions. 

Before he can even begin to formulate an answer, Jeff watches as Julie joins Frank in his kneeling, brandishing her very own ring from a breast pocket of her jacket; a similar material fashioned in the style of two leaves joining in the middle. 

"As do I," she confesses, her gaze intently boring into his as Jeff struggles with his emotions. 

"You too?! Wait wait wait-!" He stutters full of shock when both Joey and Susie join the others on the floor, and Jeff can only stare flustered and a complete mess when they also reveal their own uniquely adorned rings - a simple onyx band for Joey, and a ring unlike he's ever seen belonging to Susie, carefully encrusted with gems inside the very band shaped into waves. 

"We love you, in our own unique ways we do," Joey reveals, nervously shaking his leg, " even if we show our love differently, I think that I would have wanted to spend my life with you if I was back in the real world. And uh, with everyone else's approval and similar desire, I wanted to ask you too." 

"So did I," Susie admits, flashing a smile so bright and full of love that it brings Jeff to tears," I know our love is very different than what me and Jules share, or you and Frank do, but I want you to know you're someone who means a lot to me. I wanted to be a part of this all with you too."

They all watch, eagerly gauging for his reaction, but they soon turn to each other in silent worry when Jeff seemingly chokes on his tears - unable to formulate any coherent thoughts - and the Legion members scramble at his feet concerned. When Joey's hand tentatively rests on his knee, Jeff bursts out in incoherent words, continuously nodding his head in approval when asked whether he's alright. 

Through his tears, Jeff shakily removes the four rings already adorning his fingers - nothing spectacular, but nevertheless, rings which carry meaning to him, worn since his early adulthood. With trembling hands, he offers them each one such ring in exchange for theirs, nodding his head once more to reaffirm his wish to be with them all, for good or bad.

He bawls as they all pile around him, hands grabbing to hold each other close, their voices a cacophony of _I love you_ as their lips ghost over his face. _Finally_, Jeff thinks as he hugs them back through his tears, _I've found where I belong_.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> honestly, it kills me, it's too cheesy


	2. mindless

"Julie?"

"Yeah?"

"What are Joey and Jeff doing on top of the rooftop?" 

Julie doesn't take her eyes away from the two idiots on the rooftop of the resort to look at Susie. Instead, she pops another popcorn kernel inside her mouth while she continues to watch said idiots from a worn-down armchair she dragged outside, positioned in a suitable spot from where she can see the whole show unfurl. 

"They are planning on throwing themselves off of it." 

"What?! Does Frank know??" Susie asks, ever cautious and concerned, her eyes darting nervously to the two idiots padding themselves in piles and piles of cushions. 

"No," Julie sighs nonchalantly, "I'm waiting for him to come back home and see them." 

"Shouldn't we stop them?" the pink-haired killer asks in an attempt to maybe avoid a bad situation. 

"And miss the show? Nah," another kernel is tossed into her mouth. "They'll be fine, they're big boys," Julie says as she pats the available space next to her, gladly letting Susie link their arms together when she huddles next to her. 

It doesn't take long until Frank comes home - in fact, it takes him long enough for the two to finish taping themselves into human cushions, so ridiculously padded that they resemble the Michelin mascot. Frank doesn't even notice the two massive figures on the rooftop, being more obsessed with finding out how Julie managed to get her hands on popcorn. 

It's only after she tosses a few kernels at his head, telling him to look where Susie's pointing, that Frank loses his shit. 

"How the fuck did you two get up there?!" Frank screams, causing the two girls to erupt into giggles while the two dumbasses above scream back. 

"What?! I can't hear you, you idiot!" Joey screams back, hobbling closer to the edge of the rooftop. 

_"Hey Frank!," Jeff stiffly waves in the background with his already outstretched hand, perpetually t-posing from all the cushions wrapped around him. _

"You're the fucking idiot you fuckface!! Get the fuck down from there you mindless wads!!" 

"Ok, we're coming down!" Joey backs away two steps, turning to nod at Jeff in readiness. 

"Wait wait wait, not like that you dickheads!!" Frank screams, but it is too late. 

They both hurl themselves off the rooftops.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> jeff and joey break their dumbass necks


	3. bait

"Can you stop?" Jeff says with a tint of annoyance in his voice when Frank once more taunts him for something personal he dared reveal about his life. 

"You're such a pussy. I can't believe you threw away the fame, the money, bitches, and for what? To sulk around in your shitty apartment with your poochie and draw dicks all day? You're such a little bitch Jeff," Frank mocks. 

"It wasn't that fucking easy. I wasn't even in the band, I just helped them and did their artwork. You don't even know how bad I felt," Jeff defends himself.

They were just supposed to go salvage some planks, do this one simple thing. But lately Frank can't seem to do anything without turning something, _everything_, into a fucking argument, degrading and mocking everyone around him. And Jeff, well, he just makes it so easy for him to pick on him. 

"Aw, boo-fucking-hoo, you couldn't handle all the crowds and the noise. Get over your stupid phase, you limp dick."

"No, you get off your high fucking horse, Frank. What the fuck is your problem lately?" Jeff stops midway through their trek, aggravated and sincerely hurt. "I told you those things because I fucking love you and I trust you enough to tell you some of my most personal issues. And you fucking do this? I don't go around mocking your deep-seated issues, I fucking respect you!" Jeff lashes out, his quavering voice rising in volume as his face turns a darker shade of red. 

"I'm just baiting you, relax chubby!" Frank yells back in his face with a lack of remorse and care that nearly has Jeff chocking back a cry. There's a certain type of glint in the killer's eye, one full of malice and indifference, that just- 

It hurt. God, it hurt so fucking bad. Why does he have to be like this? Why does he have to grin and bear and bend until he can't any more? 

Maybe it's best if he distanced himself for a while. 

With a slow inhale, Jeff squares his shoulders as his face morphs into one of apathy, the change causing Frank's obnoxious demeanour to falter when Jeff displays the complete opposite reaction he expected. "Goodbye Frank," the survivor softly states, heading back in the direction of his campfire. 

"Oh come on, you can't be serious! It was a fucking joke!!" Frank resumes yelling after him once he finds his voice, regardless of the unpleasant lump that seems to have formed in his throat, or the wild beating of his heart. 

But Jeff doesn't answer, he can't seem to bring himself to care enough to react to his goading anymore. 

A part of his heart breaks nonetheless. 

"You're such a whiny bitch!" Frank yells, for the last time, before he's left alone to wallow in his selfishness.


	4. freeze

All the bones in his body ache, but now that Mount Ormond, the real-replica of Mount Ormond was in sight, he could finally relax. A chilling breeze blows through the realm, a snowstorm brewing in the distance - Frank's eyes trace the shape of the ski lifts as the rusted metal seats groan and swing heavily in their suspended prisons, spurred on by the harsh winds. He trudges through the snow, the freezing weather making his bones ache even more until finally, the resort appears in the horizon. 

_Home_, he sighs thoughtfully, looking at the imposing structure drawing closer and closer with each step. He wastes no time going inside, briefly struggling to push the heavy doors closed against the wild storm picking up in speed. 

_Finally_, he closes his eyes, leaning against the wooden frame behind him, allowing himself to breathe and empty his mind, taking in the sounds of the chalice. The crackling fire, the wooden foundation of the place groaning, the roaring storm outside, the soft sounds of sobs; his eyes reopen slowly, taking in his surroundings. 

There, by the fire, Susie lay on the cushions. Her back is towards him, her feet tucked underneath her to comfort herself, and from her hunched shoulders and dishevelled hair, Frank could tell that she's been crying for a while. 

In complete silence, Frank slowly drags himself towards the pit. Susie wipes at her face with the sleeve of her sweater before turning to look at his approaching figure; her red-rimmed eyes settle on his grinning mask, a flash of anger passing through them before it is replaced by shame. 

She sniffles, breaking their gaze to look away. With a heavy sigh, Frank removes his mask and tosses it on the space opposite of them; his jacket follows shortly, damp now from the melted snow. Susie's attention turns back to him, watching him wearily rub at his face before he pulls down the hood to ruffle his dirty hair. Her body stiffens slightly when he settles on the cushions next to her, anticipating his disapproval, berating her for showing weakness. Instead, she feels an arm wrap around her shoulder, pulling her close into the warmth of his chest. 

Her cheek rests against his chest, the steady sounds of his heartbeat is soothing.

She's always loved these moments - regardless of their many differences and issues, his rough exterior and harsh ideals, Frank had always cared for her like the brother she's never had.

Even here, as she struggles to keep up with Its expectations and demands, Frank had seemed to find a way to appease it when her punishments grew too much and they would leave her raw and bleeding. 

His hand rubs soothing circles across her back, and Susie finds herself lulled by the repetitive motions, eyelids heavy with tiredness. 

"I miss my sisters," she whispers against the worn fabric of his sweater, "I miss home."

"Me too," he answers eventually, then, barely audible in a broken voice, he whispers "I'm sorry."

Hours later, when Julie breaks through the piles of snow and makes her way inside the lodge, she finds them: her shinning sun - Susie, resting on his lap; him, skilful Daedalus - leaning down on her shoulder sound asleep, his expression for once at peace. 

And her, poor Icarus, torn between her arrogant partner, and the love of a radiant sun.


	5. build

It started as simple banter. Then, spurred on by laughter, it turned into an idea. And afterwards when brought forth to the others, what was just a mere possibility turned into a plan. 

In no way is Jeff an architect. He is good with maths sure, he is great at sketching - but an architect? No. That's why here he is nevertheless co-opted in the role of one, regardless of his expertise in the field. 

In the end, how hard could it be, right? Especially when you have William Bill Overbeck and Evan MacMillan breathing down your neck, each leaning over one of your shoulders to point, rectify and discuss the diagram you've offered to draw yourself. 

_House_. 

That's all it's titled for now. When they - Jeff, Adam, Tapp and Bill - were talking about it, it was nothing more than a simple living room. But the longer they entertained the idea in their brief respite between trials by the campfire - just the four of them present - the more it evolved, took a life of its own. 

A rudimentary house at first with four walls, a door, maybe a window: filled with beds they could try to build themselves and which they could all take turns sleeping in. They wouldn't need bathrooms or kitchens, although, they did indulge the idea of building them nonetheless: who wouldn't desire to cook again, sweet delicious foods they've all missed; and showers, god, they would all want showers.

Now as Jeff looks down at the plans - layers upon layers of sheets detailing rooms and floors - littered with measurements, footnotes, addenda and changes approved and masterminded by what Jeff thinks two of the most intelligent and resourceful men he's ever met, he thinks that maybe, just maybe, they could truly pull this off. 

Jeff lifts his eyes from the clustered table, taking a break as Evan and Bill argue over minuscule details regarding planning. He watches as Jake, Joey and Nea leave to scout ideal locations for the building. Adam and Philip have already left a couple of hours ago to look for sand, clay or limestone. Laurie, Nancy and a tired Quentin have offered to look for fabrics they could use to build sleeping mats if they weren't lucky enough to find proper wood, but considering that Anna herself has begrudgingly agreed to help them cut down trees for materials - with some coaxing from Meg, Kate and Claudette - the possibility of having proper beds to sleep in is closer to reality.

Occupying a log in the busy clearing, Julie, Susie and Jane discuss something; judging by her enraptured audience, Jeff can tell that Jane's gained some new fans. He can't help the chuckle bubbling past his lips, not surprised in the slightest that the three would get along well. After all, they were all strong women that wouldn't take shit from anyone. 

But through the figures present, both killers and survivors alike, Jeff is trying to spot his favourite one by far. He squints and he ducks and he searches the whole place until finally, his eyes land on the one person that has his heart beating in drums like it is his very first love he sees all over again - _and it is, he doesn't think he's ever loved anyone else but the boy in the blockbuster, with his ruffled hair and wild eyes, the boy with the crooked smile that lit his world on fire_.

Excusing himself for a couple of minutes, in a jog and with a grin plastered over his goofy face, Jeff makes his way to his stubborn lover, who's currently sulking by the edge of the clearing with a scornful look aimed to give the evil eye to all the people invading his favourite place.

"Did you have to tell them about our spot?" Frank jabs a finger at his chest when Jeff gets close enough to him, "they're ruining it all with their grubby hands and their shitty asses!"

Jeff can only laugh as he wraps his hands around Frank's hips, bringing them close together. "I'm sorry Frank, but our place wasn't really a secret anymore. Half of the people here knew about it already!" he smiles, amused when Frank groans and rolls his eyes dramatically. 

Frank smiles back eventually, unable to stay angry when Jeff looks at him with his usual big stupidly lovable face - how could he possibly stay mad at him? 

"When this is all done and you all fuck off to your little house, we're building our crib together."

"Yeah?" Jeff asks full of mirth.

"Yeah," Frank smiles back, turning to face the clearing with Jeff. "And we're building it here. Just the two of us. And maybe Julie," he adds when he sees Jeff tilt his head at him. "And Susie," he adds once more when Jeff raises an eyebrow, amused," Ok fine and Joey too!!" He finally relents, unable to contain his laughter.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> the whole reason why this chapter was born was because one time when i launched dbd, jeff, tapp, bill and adam were on the screen in the main menu and they looked so cozy and chill [ together ](https://media.discordapp.net/attachments/112276749252845568/631840388457693184/the_boys.png) that it was just forever ingrained in my head.


	6. husky

"If I had a magic key, and I could use it to go anywhere, I would go to... your house."

"My house?" Jeff asks curiously, "That's your first choice if you could leave this place?"

"Well no, duh, I'd go back home and give my mom and sisters biiiig hugs, but if I could go somewhere new, I'd want to see your house," Susie reasons, while she twirls her turquoise hair around her fingers. Their feet hang into the empty air below them as they both precariously sit on the bannister of the steamboat, soaking in the sounds of the swamp life around them.

Bellow them, Lisa picks fresh Bog Laurels for them, insisting that they stay for tea. The Pale Rose groans and creaks underneath them, but past it's worn down exterior, Jeff is certain that the boat would still be able to take sail if given the chance to do so. 

"If I was in your house right now," Susie starts in a sing-song voice, "what things could I find?"

"Well.." the man trails off, thinking hard for once about his humble abode. "My dog, for starters-" 

You have a dog?!" Susie perks up excitedly, clinging to Jeff's arm. "Oh! Is it a husky? I love huskies!"

"Nah, he wasn't." 

"Oh," Susie seems to slightly deflect physically, "a Newfie then? Or an Eskimo?"

Jeff can't help but chuckle, seeing the pattern Susie was going with. "Think smaller, a whole lot smaller than that."

The girl stops to ponder for a couple of moments until eventually, Jeff watches as her whole face lights up in excitement and she exclaims, "you had a chihuahua!"

He can't help the hearty laughter spilling past his lips, "Ok, maybe not that small. He's more like a Russell terrier. I rescued the lil' guy from a shelter." Jeff reveals, a sad smile forming on his face as he recalls that fateful day he brought his new companion back home. He tells Susie about it too, how after a particularly hard time in life, he decided to rescue, give himself a reason to carry on. And boy did he carry on for that lil' fellow. Anything for his baby. 

"His name was Barnabus," he says, and Susie melts on the spot right there upon hearing the name. 

"Oh my god," she whispers, holding back tears, "I love you Barnabus. Wherever you are now, thanks for taking care of Jeff, you are a champ." Susie sniffles, fist-bumping her chest in solidarity while Jeff chokes back on laughter.

"If I had that magic key," Jeff eventually continues in a soft voice once they both have calmed back down, "I would use it to bring us all back out." 

"Even me?" comes a rough distorted voice. Susie and Jeff both turn to see Lisa's haggard figure setting down a wooden tray full of mismatched cups on a barrel by the boat's bridge. Steam steadily rises off of the hot beverages, the cups slightly shaking as they're placed down by their owner's trembling hands. 

Susie slings her feet back on board, ever politely offering to help set up the place. 

"Of course Lisa, we would never leave you behind." Jeff proudly admits, smiling when the woman hides her sharp-toothed grin and blush behind her oversized claw.


	7. enchanted

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> it's the nasty

"Wait, wait slow down-" Jeff pleads between breaths, but it's getting harder and harder to hold back when Joey vehemently sucks and bites at his neck while his hands work Jeff up so skilfully underneath his clothes. The killer himself only hums against the skin of his neck, smiling when his hand around the other's nipple elicits a sharp intake of breath. 

"Joey.." Jeff warns again and finally, the other backs away - granted, just enough for Jeff to breathe, as the killer still clings closely to the other, pressing their loins insistently together. 

"Getting too much for you?" Joey asks, a smug smirk plastered over his face that only serves to embarrass Jeff further. 

"Yes?" Jeff's inquisitive answer comes out a bit too shaky for his own liking, "I came to you because you're experienced in these matters, instead you, uh-" he fumbles with his words all the while Joey undoes the buttons on his jeans, eliciting a shiver out of Jeff when he yanks them and his undergarments down, exposing him to the cold air of the resort, "instead you have me.. all.." he struggles further, tightly gripping onto Joey's forearms when the taller man doesn't waste any time to grab Jeff's hardened member in his gloved hand. 

"Enchanted?" Joey smiles, inching his face closer to Jeff's, their lips ghosting against each other, "bewitched?" he continues, guiding the flustered man backwards until his back is against the wooden wall of the ski shed, "charmed?" 

"Desperate," Jeff gasps, clinging against the other for his dear life - both from the constant teasing wearing him down, and due to the fact that he suddenly finds himself hoisted up and pressed further into the wall, Joey's weight tantalisingly leaning into him as Jeff scrambles to wrap his legs around the other's thighs. "You're worse than Frank," Jeff groans, feeling Joey's own member through the fabric of his sweatpants. 

"'Can't be worse than Frank when _you_," he barres his teeth against Jeff's lips, their chins pressing into each other, "_came_," Joey's hand tightens against Jeff's cock, eliciting a sharp inhale, "_begging for me_." 

With slow tantalising flicks of his wrist, Joey strokes him, intently watching the other's expressions: the way he fumbles and struggles to keep his cool, how reddened his face has gotten, how the hair around his forehead is slick with sweat, sticking to his skin; and he hasn't even gotten to the main event. "What was it? You wanted my experience?" his strokes pick up in speed, "You wanted to be fucked by someone who knows how to do it well?" Joey's grin only widens when he catches how Jeff shuts his eyes tightly, "Oh," Joey pauses, waiting until Jeff opens his eyes to stare back at him. "Did you want me to be your first?" The killer taunts, gripping the base of Jeff's member and halting his movements, leaving the other to squirm and whine at the painful lack of friction, keeping him on edge. 

A mantra of _yes yes yes, please joe', please_ rushes past Jeff's lips, but he makes the mistake of closing his eyes again. They shoot back open with a gasp when Joey squeezes in an unforgiving grip. "Look at me," he demands, "tell me what you want, _say it_." Joey's voice drops to a demanding whisper.

Jeff feels the other's hand clench around his thigh - fingers digging into his flesh - when he clasps his fingers together at the back of Joey's head. 

"Fuck me, _please_," comes his pleading answer, cut off by Joey's lips crashing against his.


	8. frail

The Legion members are genuinely horrified to see Jeff in such a wild state. Julie's told him how lately, Jeff had been acting weirdly. Weird is an understatement, given how they've seen, done, and experienced so many fucked up things in this place. But lately, Jeff had been jumping at shadows, reacting to things that weren't there. You could blame it on the nerves, the trauma of death and rebirth, the loss of self you experience with each new failed attempt, hell even the Doctor could fuck you up pretty good and leave you seeing shit for nights on end. But his last trial against Julie? 

Jeff screamed out of the blue - she rushed from across the map to get to him, dropped the songbird in the dirt to check what in god's name was going on. She found him cowering against the dilapidated walls of a jungle gym, incoherently crying and mumbling under his breath, snot and drool dripping from his face. The scrapper was at his side, a look of pure worry on his face as he's undeniably as confused as she was. In the end, she had to put him out of his misery with a quick and painless slash to his throat; she could not bear to see him in such a state for any longer.

Now, as she recalls this experience to her companions, a chilling dread settles over them. Was their partner losing it? Did he reach his breaking point? Has his mind become too frail to endure the horrors of this twisted world? Such questions plague the Legion. 

They agree to confront Jeff, or at least, attempt to gain an understanding of his torments. 

So it is unsurprising when the next time they find him, he is wandering the woods aimlessly. Susie calls his name, her voice full of worry, and with great hesitation, Jeff turns to face them. Frank feels shocked when he finally takes in Jeff's appearance, and he's not surprised to hear Julie's similar reaction, judging by the quick inhale and rush of air that leaves her nostrils. Joey's speechless once again, ever inexperienced in such matters, but Frank can't blame him - not when Jeff's face is as white as snow, eyes full of horror. He wants to rush to his lover's side, clench his hands around him and never let go; but Julie senses his fervent worry, as always stopping him from rushing in without a plan by grabbing onto the sleeve of his jacket. 

"Jeff," her voice breaks the silence, "what's happened?" 

"My- my dad," his voice breaks, sobs spilling past his lips, "I keep seeing my dad. " 

With an ugly sob, Jeff breaks down, tears streaming down his face as he cries and cries, and screams in anguish - terrifying his captivated audience. Frank's unable to hold himself back anymore, so he trashes out of Julie's grip like an animal until he breaks free to run to his suffering survivor. All caution is thrown to the wind when the others seemingly follow their leader's actions and join their partner's side, bombarding him with questions and soothing words. It is here where they get the full story: how their survivor has been unable to sleep for the past weeks, plagued by nightmares of his past failures, his failed relationships and deep mistrust in his stability. He reveals how he's started hearing voices, then steadily it devolved into shapes just out of his sight, until they too turned into bloody visages of his mother - the very product of his father's violence that runs hot through his veins. And then, he sees him - his father. Whispering with a wide manic grin, _you're just like me_, his skin splitting further and his fingers growing bigger, turning into claws. 

Turning into fucking claws.

A frustrated growl rips out of Frank's throat. He wants to wring that fucking burnt goblin's neck right now. Julie seems to have a similar idea, judging by how tight her hands clench at her side, turning to regard Frank with a terrifying look. They lock eyes, and an understanding passes through them.

Someone's going to fucking die for a couple of times, a violent, bloody death, caused by a flurry of stab wounds. 

It may not be final nor as effective as say, asking an actual expert on dealing with dream demons, but done enough times and with a strong enough conviction, it would lead to one of the parties finally relenting. 

That or The Boss would have enough of Its servants bickering over such frivolous trivialities, and it would put both parties into time-out like a teacher would do so with a couple of misbehaving brats.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> frank and julie exchanging that look™


	9. swing

"I don't like where this is going."

"Relax, what could _possibly_ go wrong?" Joey responds all the while his hands work to secure the knots keeping their little makeshift hammock together. 

"Yeah babe, relax," Frank reassures Jeff, as he occupies himself with unlacing and removing his shoes. "It's gonna be fun!" 

"Yeah I know," Jeff answers, sounding just the slightest annoyed, "I came up with the idea - but it didn't involve you both sitting in it with me. At least not at the same time." The last words to leave his mouth come out sounding off-pitch as Joey jumps past the stair's railing, precariously landing partially on Jeff. _Jesus Christ_, he mutters under his breath as his heart beats fast in his chest; he can't help clenching his fingers tightly into Joey's hoodie when the damn thing swings with them.

"Nice," Frank compliments his fellow killer on his sick landing, as he watches from his spot on the balustrade. 

"Not nice," Jeff mutters, still clinging to Joey, who has crawled and wiggled himself around until he's seated himself comfortably against Jeff. "This was already dodgy as it was just with me in it, now there's a higher chance for us to fall to our deaths." The thing in question hangs strung up between the bars of the upper railing and the bars on the landing opposite, creating the perfect alcove to hang a swing - granted with a slight inclination due to the lower position of the stairs landing.

Joey blows him a raspberry while Frank laughs from above them.

"What a death, falling out of a hammock that's hanging three meters in the air, " Frank deadpans, slinging his feet over the railing and assessing the best way for him to join them - he concludes that it's best if he follows Joey's example and try to stick his landing close to the middle, even if it means jumping on top of the two. 

As Frank cranes his neck down, his eyes lock with those of Jeff's. There's a moment of absolute silence: the sounds of the wind howling outside muted, the fire crackling below them silently as they stare at each other. It would have been romantic, a scene out of one of Julie's favourite cheesy romance films - if it weren't for Frank's mischievous smile spreading over his face, while Jeff's features pale in horror. 

Jeff only has a few seconds to grab onto the sheets constituting the hammock underneath him for dear life, as Frank hurls himself with abandon from the top floor. 

This time, it is Joey's turn to lose his shit as he suddenly finds himself propelled back up into the air, twirling and flailing aimlessly as the swing below him spins and twists. Unfortunately for all of them, when gravity pulls Joey back down, it does so as the hammock is in the process of balancing itself back into its original position; Joey ends up elbowing Jeff square in the nose while his foot catches the side of the sheets and he spirals outside of them. Disoriented from both the hit and the impromptu ride on the hammock-turned-carousel, Jeff manages to partially maintain his grip on the sheets with one hand, albeit at the expense of hanging suspended in the air. This, unfortunately, serves to prompt Frank to slip out as well, who on his way tumbling down, manages to elbow Jeff, _again_, in the nose. That second hit seals the deal in culminating The Great Fall of Jeffrey Johansen, who collapses onto Joey, knocking the air out of him. Frank's momentum launches him into the back wall of the pocket of stairs they built their hammock in with a loud thump before he bounces back onto the floor.

Julie emerges from her room on the upper floor, having heard a part of their commotion through her headphones. She takes in their forms as she rounds the upper railing, stopping when the stairs dip down into the landing.

Leaning over the railing and resting her chin in the palm of her hand, she regards their groaning and anguished forms with great amusement. 

_I can't believe I love these losers_, she thinks, all the more entertained, when Jeff gets up - bloody nose and all - to stomp over to Frank and smack him upside the head.


	10. pattern

From a young age, Frank has watched the people around him.

He's watched and watched, obsessing over their habits, behaviour and manner of speech - moulding himself in their image. Not for them, no. He's never given two shits about changing himself for the benefit of others. There's just something so exhilarating about gaining someone's trust by emulating their interests; observing the slight changes in their being when they find like-minded individuals; their eagerness to interact; their desire to appeal to him and keep him interested. 

How they hunger for validation when it's already too late - caught in the spider's web.

Frank loves reading the patterns in their behaviours. He's done it countless times in trials, successfully reading his preys' moves and using them against them. 

How the Strode girl always checks behind her shoulder every 3 seconds - just a glance, never wasting precious time. But 3 seconds is all he needs to change his pathing and surprise her. 

How the brit swings his body forward in anticipation when he sees Frank's fingers clench around his knife in preparation for the strike. How his face falls when it never comes, and David ends up smacking himself into a wall, still trying to read him. 

How Joey melts every time Frank gives him the barest of attention, anything to get his validation for he still yearns to have his feelings reciprocated - yearns for Frank to love him back as much as he loves him.

Reading patterns had always come naturally for Frank. 

But now, after countless trials and time wasted in the presence of the same people over and over again, it has become a challenge to maintain the facade. 

Susie and Joey still fall for his antics but Julie, in particular, has become a challenge to predict. Always apathetic, miserly and vicious. Where has that gullible girl gone? The one who'd do anything for him, ruthlessly bully others for his amusement, steal and vandalise at his command. Gave everything, _everything_. For him. 

She can't even look at him now. 

And every time she does, it kills him just a little more inside. 

It's like he's looking in a mirror, only, his reflection wants him dead.


	11. snow

"I will literally slap you right now, Julie."

"Please do, I'm dying to see you get up on your twig legs, hobble over to me and slap me with your dainty princess wrist," Julie challenges, her eyes trained onto Frank's indignant features. Her lips quiver into a smug smile that only serves to incense Frank further. 

"I swear to fucking God," Frank purses his fingers together, attempting to look threatening but failing miserably, " don't make me come over there." 

Several moments of silence pass while they stare daggers at each other from across the room, gauging for their respective reactions: Frank from behind the bar, eyebrows furrowed and eyes narrowed in annoyance; and Julie, sitting in her throne, the one armchair in the whole resort that's not full of broken springs sticking out of the cushions, nor mildewed by time. At an equal distance between them, Susie sits by the firepit, having arrived back from a trial half an hour ago and watches them full of intrigue. From what little bits she's gathered, they've been arguing over trivialities like which one of them has the better prowess in hunts, who's strung up the most survivors, who's got the better connections in this place, _who's the better killer_; that bit, in particular, is what had raised Frank's hackles.

When Julie fails to deliver a comeback, Frank smirks full of himself as he goes back to fiddling with his walkman; the damn thing started acting up lately, ever since he fucked around in Lery's in a trial - all the lingering static from the bitch-doctor must have messed with the thing.  
One of his mixtapes currently sits in the cassette player, and Frank keeps pausing and unpausing whatever song currently plays through the headphones, loudly turned up. 

_Something blowing in my head  
Winds of ice that soon will spread_

Black Sabbath plays through the speakers, but Ozzy's voice comes distorted still regardless of how many times Frank's checked the tape and the player's cassette slot. 

_Down to freeze my very soul  
Makes me happy, makes me cold_

Susie pouts, disappointed that no catfight broke out between the two - she would have liked to see their leader get their ass handed by arguably THE coolest person she knows. Speaking of said person, Susie turns to regard her soulmate, who still has her eyes trained on Frank from across the room. There's something about that look though - the intensity behind enough to turn Frank into stone if it were possible - that makes her think that there was more to their argument than just teasing. 

_My eyes are blind, but I can see  
The snowflakes glisten on the tree_

Her heart aches; she knows that Julie loves her, God only knows how much she loves her back but - she's different. Terrifyingly so. She's changed so much ever since she started hanging out with Frank, ever since she roped her into hanging with him too. And now that they're all stuck here, it's worse. Susie knows that Julie would never hurt her, but sometimes, it terrifies her how ruthless she's become. 

Sometimes, she's worse than Frank. And nobody's worse than Frank.

"Fucking piece of shit," Frank swears through clenched teeth from one side of the room, frustrated once more when the cassette skips past lyrics. 

"Ask the Pig to take a look at your player you dumbass, she can probably fix it," Julie remarks from the other side. "Oh wait," she pauses with a smile, tilting her head as if in thought, her eyes trained on Frank's hateful glare. Susie nervously shifts her gaze between the two, sensing that this whole ordeal will go to shit very fast. "That's right," Julie's voice sounds so sweet, but there's a certain cold edge in it that chills Susie to the bone, "you've got no friends to turn to here. Because no one's ever going to want you." 

_The sun no longer sets me free  
I feel the snowflakes freezing me_

The last lines in the chorus of Snowblind crackle in the background, the only sound audible in the entirety of the chalet. For a fearsome moment, nothing happens. 

And then Frank launches himself past the bar, throwing himself towards Julie with abandon and murder in his eyes. 

And Julie welcomes him, reciprocating his desire for violence.


	12. dragon

Drawing had always come naturally to him. From an early age, Jeff had drawn and painted and crafted all sorts of things. He'd get into trouble more often than not for doing it - often ending up scribbling on the walls of his rooms or during classes in schools but, how could you blame him, when there were so many fascinating things to do; his imagination always running wild with new ideas and possibilities.

Throughout the years, Jeff Johansen had filled countless sketchbooks, pads and canvases with his ideas. If he were to look back at all that he's done, he'd see that some of his best works were born during defining events in his life.

His first day of school spent among strangers and sneering peers had toughened him up in a way that stuck to him his whole life. He remembers being by himself among all the groups of children, scribbling his anxiousness away and drawing dragons and castles and knights and anything to keep them away. 

Sketching in the blockbuster, filling pages upon pages with scribbles of mythic beasts of ancient times to keep himself occupied - anything to do in the long hours before he'd have to return to his dreadful home of arguments and violent outbursts. It is here where he'd attracted the attention of a late-night regular, someone he'd come to look forward to seeing at work. It was another dragon he'd drawn, this time more than just an anxious scribble: a large imposing beast, twisting and spewing fire. Who he'd get to know as Frank, later on, remarked on it and called his sketching 'hella fly'. 

_Hella fly_.

That was the same thing, among other surprised and pleased exclamations, that his friends declared upon completing the mural for them. He remembers smiling the entire walk back home through the snowstorm, clutching his 50 dollar note and 12-pack close to himself. 

There were other points in his life where he'd drawn dragons. One, in particular, he's deeply ashamed of - having beaten a man within an inch of his life - he remembers drawing himself being devoured by a dragon, a beast so terrifying and grotesque that it served to remind him always of that time. He's never let his anger get the better of him again since then.

Now in this hell, he finds himself drawing dragons once more. The Cannibal - _Bubba_, he corrects himself - has him held hostage in the Cowshed. The killer's already sacrificed all his other teammates, cornering him in the blasted building in their blind chase across the premises of their trial, in search of the hatch; in his struggle against the brute, his sketchbook slipped from the confines of his jacket, tumbling to the ground between them. That's when the brutish man took an interest in it, stopping to pick and rip at the paper in what Jeff perceived as childish curiosity; it is here where he saw his chance to keep his life if maybe he could entertain the man-sized child.

So Jeff sits in the hay, with his head bleeding from the wound inflicted by the killer's cattle hammer, and draws with nothing but his fingers and his blood. His audience watches him like a hawk, breathing heavily in his proximity as his hands' fumble with Jeff's hair and jacket with no care for personal space. But it's fine, it could be worse.

At least he's drawing bloody dragons.


	13. ash

It was a particularly hard trial, at least for Jeff in particular. Ever since the fog cleared and he found himself on the grounds of Hawkins' Laboratory, Jeff merely got the chance to take one step towards a generator before his ears picked up the tell-tale sounds of a heartbeat drumming wildly. Sure enough, rounding the corner in front of him, the Trapper stops to regard him for a brief second - perhaps equally exasperated to start the trial without preparation - before they proceed on their chase throughout the cramped enclosure of the laboratory.

Now, after two completed generators affected by ruin, Jeff finds himself finally hooked for the very first time. A scream leaves his throat as the hook pierces his flesh, but before his body even settles to the trauma, he finds himself yanked back off and another hot flash of pain spears through him. 

Panic overwhelms him, but as soon as he lays eyes on his saviour, he finds himself dazed. Ash, the famous Ashley Joanna Williams, flashes him a thumbs up - or rather, his muppet does - before he dashes out of his sight. Jeff is left to gather himself back up for a brief few seconds, Ashs' reassuring _Alright!_ still reverberating in his ears, before the Trapper rounds the corner again. 

Once more, they both stand there, staring at each other. As if sensing the survivor's confused panic, Evan allows him a headstart of a few seconds before their chase resumes once more.

The second time Jeff gets struck back to the ground, one other generator had managed to be completed. Two of his teammates flock around him, Nea with her flashlight and her cat-like reflexes trying to attract the killer's attention long enough for Quentin to dive in and quickly bring him back up to his feet with his God-given ability to always find medkits. However, the Trapper is having none of their bullshit, swatting his cleaver at them with increasing ferocity. Quentin is injured in his attempts before he could even heal half of Jeff's injuries. Nea waits from behind the glass divider while she clutches her injured arm, though still prepared to jump out and blind the killer the moment he picks Jeff up. The Trapper, however, is much too experienced in their shenanigans to know never to let his guard down around such pesky survivors. He steps over Jeff's fallen form, feigning picking up, only to turn on his heels just in time to grab Nea from vaulting the window behind him. 

Jeff watches woozily from the mucus and resin in the portal room, drained from the chases, the bloodlust, and his teammates' antics. Just as he's starting to lose consciousness, his eyes straining to stay open and watch Nea's form be carried away towards the nearest hook, he sees him.

From the opening in the glass roof, an angel descends. He must have been hiding above there for a long time, he doesn't know when else he could have possibly sneaked past them all - or maybe Jeff was _really_ starting to lose it and Ash was, in fact, a saviour, his own personal Jesus. 

With a grunt, the 'alone wolf' lands on his feet, taking in the situation with an air of knowledge; knowledge of what exactly, Jeff is unsure - the man is a total enigma and everything he claims to have seen or fought sound batshit crazy. The Trapper turns once he hears the commotion, just in time to see Ash flash him an impossibly bright pearly white smile before he exclaims full of cockiness, _That's right. That's me, baby._ The next thing the Trapper knows, there's a firecracker sizzling at his feet, exploding in a flash of bright lights and loud noises. Blinded by the fireworks, the killer drops his prey and Nea wastes no time in dashing away from the scene.

Jeff watches full of awe and a tad delirious how Ash slides his way towards him, hoisting him back up on his feet. _Are we gonna be here all day?_ he winks, causing Jeff to blush while he scrambles back up on his feet. But no soon is he up that the Trapper emerges in the doorway of the glass divider, his body tense and full of anger. Jeff feels himself instinctively shrink, already anticipating pain directed towards him, but as the Trapper lunges towards them, it's Ash he's hellbent on getting his hands on. 

Ash gives him one last wink before he rushes past the stairs and down through the glass again, the killer hot on his trail. 

As he makes it out through the gates that trial, albeit battered and bruised and at the expense of his saviour's life, Ash's confident voice still plays in his mind, bringing a shy smile to his bloodied lips.

_Catch ya' on the flip-flop_.

He's sure to provide the man with aftercare once they're reunited at the fire, he's always going to return the favour.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> it's a crime that you can't hear (as survivors at least) ash talk to you in trials.


	14. overgrown

It feels like an eternity since she's last laid eyes on her house. To some degree, it probably has, given how Jeff had somehow aged years ahead of them despite them all having been in the same year in high school; and then there's all the other killers and survivors, some of them coming years ahead from the future, while some come from ancient Babylonian times. But... she would have never imagined she'd see her home again; not like this.

For once, Susie wishes she was anywhere else but home.

As she stands there - on the kerb of the street she used to live on - she's overcome with an immeasurable sense of dread. The whole neighbourhood lies abandoned around her; houses where she'd babysit neighbourhood kids or neighbours she used to love seeing as a young child herself, now lay bare with their windows broken and their doors barred away. 

There, over there - she used to walk with her youngest sister through there when she'd pick her up from kindergarten when their mother could not. And over there, she remembers an instance where late one night, she snuck out through her bedroom window to meet Julie right there, underneath the poplar tree with its overgrown roots. But now, there's more than just the wild roots.

A shiver runs down her body as with slow steps, Susie inches closer to the ruins of her home. It was never a nice house, the wooden panels on the front of the house had always had the paint on them chipped away by time but now, as she looks at the overgrown vegetation covering her small bungalow, Susie feels her eyes prickle with tears. What happened to everyone? Where are her sisters, her mom? The wooden sill of the window creaks audibly as she slides herself inside her old living room, landing on old mouldy linoleum and broken glass. 

It takes her a few moments to stop coughing, the repugnant stuffy air impossible to breathe in. But she's none the better when her lungs settle to the air, for her chest and throat constrict when her eyes take in the state of the house. It's never been the cleanest of houses, her mother always worked from morning till night to make sure they all had clothes and food on the table - Susie's always helped her mother with her little sisters, looking after them, bathing, feeding, she's never shied away from house chores either, but now as she stares at the broken and disarray state of the living room, she can't help the wave of panic washing over her. 

Trudging through the broken furniture and growing weeds, Susie beelines towards the back of the house, where she knows their bedrooms used to be. But the closer she gets, the more she finds herself deeper into vegetation, her legs struggling now through the thick roots and viscous matter. Her hands pry at the webs of plants, growing larger and heavier to push away - and if perhaps they move and slither past behind her, Susie doesn't want to know. 

At the end of the corridor, ahead of her, she can see her mother's bedroom, glowing light filtering through the door left ajar. She advances with more fervour, feeling a glimmer of hope at seeing her loved ones again, calling out a chorus of _Mom! Steph! Mandy! I'm home!_ the nearer she gets.

And then, a shadow moves underneath the door. 

Susie halts, her heart suddenly beating fiercely in her chest. Why does she feel so scared? Why does she feel completely petrified, unable to breathe and mutter any other words? She takes a step back, unkeen on advancing any closer to the door but, her heel hits something solid, and when she turns she finds herself unable to hold back her tears any more. 

The corridor behind her is no more. Instead, she finds a wall of solid matter formed of interwoven blood vines. Her hands clutch at the viscous roots, unable to comprehend what is happening, but the tendrils glide angrily through her hands, coiling farther together. Through her panicked sobs and heavy breathing, Susie's ears pick up the sound of a familiar voice, calling out to her. 

With great hesitance, she turns to face the bedroom, only to be greeted by the sight of the bedroom door now open wide. There's a tall figure standing in the doorway, their visage shadowed by the glaring light behind them, now turned red. Desperately, she wants to call out _Mom?_ but all that leaves her lips is a broken whimper. Whispers sound from the doorway, quiet at first, but she recognises them in horror. 

Sweet whispers so pleasing when she's good, when she does Its bidding well. Soft, guttural groans goading her in trials, the hunger and demand behind them often enough to whip her into a frenzy to perform adequately, or else she suffers greatly.

Her nails scratch at the walls around her, unbearably suffocating as she finds herself unable to move. The walls have started closing in on her, eating her up up up until she's one with the overgrown vegetation, one with the Entity. She begs, pleads to be let go, she's been good, she's done well, why is she being punished? 

And the figure laughs, so distorted and grotesque and inhuman, _A reward. You desired to be home, you wanted out of my world. I gift you your family, for you are eager to be reunited_. 

With a shocked cry, Susie's eyes turn to her forearms to find shrivelled claws tearing at her flesh, pulling her towards screaming corpses with gaping maws and bleeding eyes, and Susie feels a part of herself die just then as she realises it's _her mother_.

A scream rips out of her throat as a resounding boom sounds in the air. The girl whips her head back to find the figure floating a few feet away from her, Its form shrouded by void and horror. She pleads and cries as it draws closer and Susie stares wide eyes and full of terror at the empty face, stares into Its darkness and glimpses moving shadows, monsters and beasts of unimaginable forms slithering through the void as a scream so shrill and loud leaves her all at once when Its voice drowns the static, decreeing _DO NOT DISPLEASE ME AGAIN_.

Then Joey barges in her room, his panicked eyes falling on her shrieking dishevelled form as she writhes and struggles on her mattress, face red and tear stricken. Her howls echo across the lonely resort as Joey struggles to wake and calm her down, holding her close to his shaking form. And if he cries too as he feels powerless to help her through her struggles, it wouldn't matter. 

It wouldn't change a thing.


	15. legend

Sometimes, there was nothing more he wanted to do than to punch Frank Morrison square in the face - break his fucking nose, you know? Especially when he was acting like a real dickhead, just like he was right now. He's not expecting Frank to let him off the hook, both literally and figuratively - but he despises when Frank acts all high and mighty in trials. It always happens with newbies, fresh meat as the killers call them, and it's understandable. He had been terrible in the beginning as well, especially those first ten trials or so when he was still getting the hang of things and learning how to work against each killer.

But Frank, God, he always had to make it a show when he caught sight of new people, take the opportunity to revel in the power plays and his grandiosity. And it's these instances that carry outside of trials afterwards, where Jeff has to put up with the man's ego and smugness - until something else either catches Frank's attention or until Jeff shuts him up in more, uh, _sexual circumstances_. 

Tonight's trial starts with not one, but two new survivors - Nancy and Steve, both friends with a complicated past, find themselves in the Entity's game. They're still learning the ropes, getting the hang of their abilities and the rules of the game. Before the trial's commencement when they all had a bit of time to prepare, Jeff took the time to reflect on his two new teammates: Nancy reminds him a bit of Laurie, very resilient and level-headed, but a bit of a loner, whereas her friend seems to be the complete opposite; they're both joining him this trial together with ol' reliable Ace and his legendary luck, who flashes him a wink and tells him he's bringing a skeleton key with them.

As soon as the fog clears and they regain their bearings, they find themselves on the small grounds of Wrecker's Yard - not the greatest of maps for them but, at least it's not The Game. 

No sooner does he starts working on a generator than he hears his heartbeat pick up in speed. Sure enough, the second he whips his head around to take in his surroundings does he see none other than his boyfriend bee-lining straight to him, his shoulders shaking from laughter. He can't help but groan right before he commences on a very short-lived chase. Frank quickly catches up to him to stick his filthy blade in between his ribs, taking the time to twist the blade in the wound, eliciting a strangled groan out of Jeff when he rips it back out mercilessly. Right before he leaves, Frank rubs his mask against the side of Jeff's face, leaving the survivor to mend himself in confusion and annoyance. But after he mends his wound and attempts to patch himself up with the medkit he brought, Jeff realises why Frank is acting so smugly. 

_Ah_. It's taking him a very long time to patch his mangled wounds. Sure enough, as he hears the others screaming across the enclosure of the Yard, he feels himself shiver in fear. _Thanatophobia_ settles in. Then when his ears pick up the sounds of the heartbeat again, even though his eyes can't seem to catch sight of Frank's distressing presence anywhere in his vicinity, he finds himself all the more terrified, his hands shaking and impeding his performance. _Coulrophobia_ then. 

Frank, you fucking clown. 

Jeff gives up all together at trying to heal himself, instead, focusing on completing generators. Several times when he's nearly finished with his generator, Frank pops out from whatever evil thing he's doing to hinder his progress. Irritated beyond belief, Jeff is chased away and wounded once more, before he's left to mend again. Each time he gets close to finishing his generator, Frank appears again, somehow knowing exactly the repair progress of his machine. It's been six times he's had to do the same things over and over again: repair, run, get stabbed, mend, run back, repeat. If he has to do it one more time he's going to go insane. And what the hell are the others doing? He's glimpsed Ace running around with Frank hot on his tail several times, but where the hell are the new guys? Why is no one else doing any fucking generators? And what the hell is that abysmal mixtape Frank is listening to when he chases him? Sounds like absolute gibberish and garbage. 

Finally, Jeff sighs with great relief when his generator comes to life, but it does so at the cost of Ace getting hooked. He starts work on a second generator, expecting to see Frank pop around the corner of the walls but, there's no such sight of him. Ace still hangs on the hook letting out the occasional scream and no one else seems to be making their way towards him judging by the fact that he's just seen Nancy jump into a locker and Steve run in the opposite direction, past Jeff. When he leaves his generator to head towards Ace, the artist sees exactly why no one else is coming to the gambler's rescue.

"Frank you little shit," he mutters, watching Frank hack and slash at the poor man, intent on face-camping him to death. 

He doesn't have a lot to work with, given how he's still injured himself. He doesn't even think he can give Ace any borrowed time to live on if he unhooks him in Frank's presence but, it's better to have tried and failed than to not have tried at all. 

Looking at it now, as he hangs from a hook himself and Frank twirls his knife between his fingers in front of him, maybe he shouldn't have tried at all. The whole attempt went south really fast: Frank shooed him away, refusing to leave the hook's proximity. It was only when Jeff called him chicken legs, that Frank yelled out '_What did you say, fat man?!_' and lunged after him. He has no idea how he managed to evade his swings long enough to drop a pallet in between them, taking the opportunity to unhook Ace while Frank vaulted the pallet and took the time to stab him twice more. But with no pallet or extra time to run, Ace was downed when the killer had enough of Jeff body blocking him and he pushed past him. 

Now as Ace lies at the bottom of his hill and bleeds out, Jeff feels a headache forming on top of the pain radiating from his many wounds and pierced shoulder. Frank snickers and runs the tip of his knife across his body, jabbing at times at old wounds, rubbing it in his face how 'he caught him cause he's so slow', and 'shouldn't have tried so hard babe'. 

Jeff closes his eyes and purses his lips, intent on ignoring his boyfriend while he gloats on and on about his prowess, occasionally mocking him for being a goody-two-shoes. Frank keeps running his mouth, leaning heavily on his hanging form, dragging Jeff's weight more into the hook and eliciting occasional hisses of pain from him. The survivor bares his teeth and endures it all though, refusing to give in to the goading. 

But he's got a limit. Everyone has a limit.

"Easiest game of my life," Frank laughs. "Easy-peasy lemon squeezy. Thanks for handing it out on a plate for me babe, like you hand out your ass too," he mocks, making obnoxious kissing noises from behind his mask as his hands reach behind to squeeze at the survivor's buttocks. "Easy butt, easy game, easy life, easy easy easy-" he carries on, abruptly stopping when Jeff's eyes shoot wide open in a terrifying glare. Frank takes several steps back as Jeff begins struggling on the hook, grunting as his hands reach back to grab at the metal. 

The killer's jaw drops when he watches Jeff swing and haul himself off of the hook with a sudden jerk and yell, dislodging the metal hook from its place. Ace stares dumbfounded from the cold dirt, mirroring the killer's awed expression as they both take in Jeff's heaving form. With slow movements and deep inhales, Jeff picks up the hook from where it fell.

Frank is kinda turned on, watching his boyfriend get off like that, even more so when he sees Jeff get into an aggressive stance. 

"Hey Frank," the survivor says, lifting his chin and flipping his hair around. "Vibe check!"

Frank Morrison has three seconds to register what's about to happen before Jeff hits him across the face with the metal hook. 

Ace Visconti is not a very impressible man, given his shaky background and hectic lifestyle but, he has to take off his sunglasses to fully take in the scene before him: the Legion leader being repetitively whacked by their very angry partner, cowering and begging for mercy under them as they cuss and berate him. 

When Jeff takes a break to catch his breath, his eyes lock with his fellow survivor's. It takes a bark of 'get up' from Jeff to have Ace scrambling back up on his feet despite his injuries, hurrying away to find the others and get to work. 

Later, when they complete the generators and scramble to the exits, Ace goes to check on the two, only to find Jeff shaking the other mercilessly by the jacket, still having a go at them while Frank lays underneath him with his mask slapped to the side. Needless to say, they're both a mess of bloodied bodies and clothes, but there's a distinct flush plaguing the killer's face that makes Ace think it's not due to Jeff's slapping alone. 

The gambler clears his throat and thankfully Jeff stops, giving the other one last shove before he abandons their dazed form on the hill. Frank can only lay there as he tries to process the events that just unfurled and even more, make sense of his flurry of emotions. 

As Jeff and Ace leave the boundaries of the trial and walk back through the fog, the older man can't contain himself anymore. "Jeff Johansen, "he starts, full of veneration, "you're a legend."

Jeff doesn't even bat an eye before he mutters 'fuck off' and powerwalks back to their campfire.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [ vibe check, frank! ](https://media.discordapp.net/attachments/616673135025979410/637399650151825409/vibe.png)


	16. wild

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [ the hills were alive with wildflowers and I was as wild, even wilder than they ](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=7NX9UuRyt0E)

Whenever Julie wanted some time to herself, she'd go exploring some of the forgotten realms of the Entity's world. A loner at heart, there was nothing more exhilarating to her than the long walks she'd take when she wanted to forget, just for a moment, about herself. 

Sometimes she'd bring some of her sadder mixtapes with her, but more often she'd leave them untouched as she enjoyed the many sounds filtering through these strange places. The wreckage of an aeroplane, torn in half and missing its cockpit; the ruins of a city, offering shelter from the ice storm forever blowing in the streets through underground entries leading to old decrepit metro stations; a beautiful wooden cabin - long-abandoned judging from the dusty furniture left behind - by the side of a lake with waters so dark and deep that they seemed to hide a great terrifying evil in them; these were but some things that Julie had encountered in her never-ending quest to sate that wild curiosity that burned within her. It's this same wild desire that eventually led her naive self to ruin, always wishing to leave Ormond behind in search of greener pastures. 

Julie climbs hills and steep pathways, never intended for men to travel by foot but instead nestled high in saddles astride horses. She's passed a sign a couple of miles ago, the wooden arms proclaiming that she would find a place called _Strawberry_ from where she came. The other sign points ahead of her, but the painted letters on the wood have long since faded until all that she could discern were the words _-og Ranch_. 

It does not matter much for her. What matters is reaching the place she knows all too well by now and when she does, she's left as breathless as she was when she first laid her eyes upon it.

A meadow, an actual meadow of wildflowers that extends for miles and miles until the edges of it are swallowed by thick pine trees. The air is fresh and crisp here, a part of it reminding her of home, a version of a home she could never go back to. A small river splits through the meadow, it's running waters susurrating through the night with a gentle whisper that serves to accompany the breeze rustling through the flowers. It carries with it warm embers and the smell of burning wood from the other side of the meadow, where a building - the ranch from the sign, she presumes - burns there and will continue to do so for an eternity. Perhaps it served to start a chain of events that would affect this place for years to come, or maybe it was the birth of a monster, like a Pheonix rising from the ashes. But what they are, for now, are mere speculations of a girl still craving knowledge.

A mere few feet away from the river, Julie settles among the wildflowers. She removes her leather jacket and rolls the sleeves of her hoody up, wanting to feel the cold air across her burning skin. Her fingers graze across the many petals around her, a deep inhale floods her lungs with the fresh smell of flowers. The resolute woman leans back against the grass and flowers, taking in the stillness of the night. There are stars here, her eyes trace the orbs littering the sky, but none of the constellations resemble any of the ones she's known ever since she was a child. They must be yet another flawed copy of the real thing, though Julie doesn't mind so much, not when her mind is at peace, even for just a bit. 

No trials call for her, no masters demanding blood. 

Dolly Parton's songs play through her head, hummed gently under her breath. 

_Wildflowers don't care where they go_, she sings quietly in the lonely night, teary-eyed and melancholic.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> can you spot the game reference
> 
> here's a [ reference ](https://cdn.discordapp.com/attachments/628672525597016078/634195171009101835/1000.png) for the place i was describing


	17. ornament

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> eymelee apparently really liked this one.

The rain beats steadily against the firm walls of the Temple of Purgation. It is a wonder how the walls still stand, eroded by time and the many changes of the seasons, but nevertheless still strongly supporting the weight of the entire building. From the outside, the building wouldn't even evoke the concept of a temple to his mind: a strangely shaped mound maybe, too small to be a mountain and yet too tall to be anything else but. It's only when he reaches the front entrance, seeking refuge from the rain soaking through his clothes, that he believes otherwise. 

His ringed fingers push through his wet hair, parting and brushing it back against his ears as he hides behind the stone pillars. The forest is quiet, whatever crows or creatures out there in this place sheltered from the constant downpour. With steady steps, Jeff crosses the threshold of the temple, taking in the grandeur of the main chamber. He's only been here a couple of times, each trial more challenging than the last, but he didn't get a chance to take in the details of the building. Now as he regards the golden ornaments and intricate designs, he finds himself unable to take his eyes off of this architectural wonder. 

As Jeff's eyes roam across the inner chamber, alight with a certain artistic hunger, his imagination runs wild with all sorts of fantasies he envisions this place would have looked like back then. Descending into the main chamber, his eyes lift higher towards the ceiling and Jeff finds himself surprised beyond belief to see that there is, in fact, no canopy - instead, the temple looks like it once used to house much more than the ground floor. Stone bridges broken in the middle extend from different levels, built up into the higher levels of the mound. He notes that he can't quite see the ceiling of the mound; perhaps there wasn't one? Could that explain the lighting on the golden pedestal in the middle of the chamber?

"Remarkable, isn't it?" a voice breaks Jeff out of his reverie.

Startled, his eyes quickly search his premises until they eventually fall on Quentin's seated form on one of the podiums on the outer alcoves of the chamber. Jeff's features relax into a smile upon taking in Quentin's own peaceful ones. "Yeah, it's incredible," he remarks, taking one last look around the enclosure before he makes his way back to his friend. "Is this where you disappear to outside trials?" he asks with a smile once he seats himself at Quentin's side.

"Sometimes," he sighs, leaning into Jeff's warm side. "Sometimes I go to Crotus Prenn. But I think I like it here better."

Jeff nods, understanding Quentin's preference for such holy grounds. He knows that Quentin grew up quite religious, though less fervent in his beliefs after his encounters and conflicts with his nemesis, a part of him still gravitated towards those places promising safe heaven and acceptance. Rest for his weary soul and troubled mind.

"Are you religious?" Quentin asks, startling him out of his thoughts.

"To some degree, I guess I am," he sniffles, his nose picking up the scent of incense burning, "I guess I believe in Gods, both old and new. I've studied too many myths and legends that would make it impossible for me to deny ever believing some of them.

Quentin hums in thought, his hand absent-mindedly playing with the cross and pendant around his neck. "Sometimes I like to come here and look at the ornaments. I like guessing what ancient parts of these temples inspired churches in our current times. Like that," he points towards the podium at the far side of the chamber, "That looks like a pulpit. The Plague preached to me from there once. I think she understands that I'm a believer, even if it's for another God," Quentin clarifies when Jeff turns to look at him in disbelief.

"That's nice of her. Do you see her often?" 

"Yeah, I think she likes having an audience again. She shows me a lot of the things she does, and the ornaments of the temple. She sits a lot with me and prays." 

Jeff hums in surprise, reinvigorated to know there's a kinder side to this killer. 

"I don't believe in God anymore," Quentin's voice carries on quietly, a sombre tone to it, "Not since Freddy, or since coming here but, sometimes I pray with her too."

"I can understand that," Jeff nods, " it can be comforting to indulge in past habits."

"Yeah. I miss back when I couldn't remember much of my childhood. When I was still naive and thought that God wouldn't let anything bad happen to good people," Quentin states with a certain cold resentment. Jeff is speechless, unable to deliver an answer at Quentin's inner torment. 

Silence befalls them, the sounds of the steady rain beating against the cold stones echoing across the chambers of the temple.

"I pray that Freddy dies for good," Quentin reveals, "so that I may finally die at peace too."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> do you ever just get like so sad thinking about quentin's fucked up life, cause i sure do


	18. misfit

"You stick out like a sore thumb."

"Fuck off I look just like one of them."

Julie raises an eyebrow, amused. "Yes, if one of them was dressed as if they've just escaped fashion prison."

Frank gives Julie the middle finger or at least attempts to do so, but his hands are completely engulfed by the long sleeves of the blue sweater he's wearing. 

He does look like a fashion disaster. A blue sweater is worn over a polka-dotted shirt, which has its collar puffed out and sticking to his cheeks; white shorts nabbed off from the pond when a bunch of male survivors were bathing once; he's lacking shoes but ah well, no one cares enough to check shoes - besides, he's got other things to worry about, like how the hell he's going to see through these shitty, round-rimmed pink sunglasses.

While Frank fusses over the outfit he strung together with the garments he's stolen from various survivors, Julie watches, a small smile ghosting over her lips. Even though their bond had been nothing but ups and downs, bringing her more pain than anything else, Julie still remembers fondly the early stages in their relationship. He was nothing but a misfit, an eccentric weirdo sticking out like a fish out of frozen water in Ormond. She hates to admit it but, behind his rough and cold demeanour - and the prospect that she could get out of Ormond - Julie really fell in love with the weird dumbass underneath. 

The dumbass that burned his eyebrows off, trying to impress her with his sick _(not sick at all)_ lighter tricks. The dumbass that would wait outside her window, half-naked, trying to impress her with his tolerance for pain _(and getting pneumonia the next day)_. The dumbass playing five-finger-fillet with the Clown to win her one of his questionable trinkets from his caravan _(and losing his fingers in the process)_.

As much as she hates Frank Morrison, by God is she a sucker for idiots.

"Here, don't forget your hat," she says as she picks up the blue beanie from the bar. 

Frank fusses as she messes his hair and puts the beanie on, her hands dropping down to the raised collars of his shirt, clenching around the ruffled fabric.

"I bet you two darts and a moonshine bottle that I'll go unnoticed for at least an hour," Frank grins from behind his spectacles.

"I bet you five and a pack of gum that you won't last ten minutes," Julie smirks, watching Frank's feature light up with that certain 'up-to-no-good' look he gets when he's excited. 

"Deal," he goes to pull away, eager to cause some mischief. Before he can lean away though, Julie pulls him back into a surprise kiss, leaving the other wide-eyed behind his crooked glasses.

"You're a massive wackadoodle," she whispers in his face, before pulling the beanie over his awestruck features.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> he named himself Fester in a panic, btw


	19. sling

"Ow!" Susie cried at the sudden small jolt of pain against her arm. Instinctively, she covers the wounded side, but upon closer inspection, Susie can't find anything wrong with her arm. Confused, she runs her hand once more over her sweater before she swivels her head around, checking her surroundings. 

Nobody was around, at least, nobody that she could see. She's just finished a trial, satisfactory enough to leave with no issues, so she began the long walk back through the woods. Where to? She's not exactly sure. Ormond was usually the destination, she didn't go much outside the familiar mountains and snow except for the times when they'd be all dicking around.

Another shot of pain hits her, this time to the back of her head, and Susie finds herself annoyed at the onslaught. The trees are the only ones greeting her back when she turns again, the empty sight only proves to frustrate her further. Just as she's about to stomp off annoyed, sure that she's being made the victim of a prank, her ears pick up a peculiar sound, someone psst-ing her over. Lifting her gaze towards the direction of the sound, she's genuinely surprised to see a survivor saluting her from the branches above.

"Yo," Nea smirks, swinging her leg playfully from the branch. 

"Yo," Susie responds, a bit confused as she casts another glance around her again, "what are you doing up there?" 

"Chilling. Waiting for something to happen," Nea shrugs.

"Oh. Were you throwing things at me?"

"Oh yeah," Nea shifts, revealing the slingshot she was hiding behind her back. "Thought you were the other one, the one with the tacky tattoo."

Susie giggles, remembering how fervently Frank cusses and complains about the survivor above her. Nea's features brighten up upon hearing Susie's lighthearted laughter. "Say, you busy? You got any killing to do?"

"Mmmmaybe I do, maybe I don't," Susie proclaims in a sing-song voice, swinging on the soles of her feet, "why do you ask?" 

"Do you wanna join me in slinging some pebbles at fools? I'll let you use my slingshot," Nea winks full of mischief. 

Susie's heart quickens in pace briefly; the prospect of doing mischievous things had always had her conflicted: on one side, she was always a 'good girl', or at least she's strived to be one, even when Julie began straying further and further from the same lifestyle, indulging Frank's; but on the other side, Susie couldn't resist that certain thrill that came with doing something bad, the excitement of pulling pranks and being mischievous. 

Ah, what the hell, it was just some playful tricks. 

Susie grasps onto Nea's outstretched hand, hoisting herself up full of excitement on the branch with the survivor. They shift around until they're both comfortable together, chatting quietly and awaiting their next unsuspecting victims.

Unfortunately, it is the Huntress who passes underneath their tree. When they playfully sling pebbles at her and the Huntress catches a hint of them both in the tree, they all laugh together. 

Until the Huntress readies her hatchet, saying 'I try now!'.


	20. tread

Something was not right; that, he could tell for certain. And it didn't take the bleeding girl stumbling into the building - whimpering in pain - for him to realise that something was not right, no. 

Ever since he parked his car on the outskirts of Mount Ormond, a feeling of foreboding settled over him. He tried to shake it off as he trod up the snowy path, clutching the 12-pack with one hand close to his chest while his other clenched tightly around his car keys. It lessened slightly upon seeing the old building, relieved to find it still standing and unchanged. He vaguely remembers a time when the resort was up for sale, prospective buyers lining up for negotiations, back when he still lived in Ormond. 

He felt happy seeing the retreat again, but amidst the lightheartedness, nostalgia crept into his heart upon laying eyes on the dilapidated walls and ruined interior. It was worse than he remembered it, maybe his perception was different now as he aged, compared to the enthusiasm he used to exhibit in his youth when exploring old places. Peculiarly, the fire inside the building still burned, offering some reprieve from the harsh snowstorm picking up outside. 

Examining his old work - his very first commission - had made him all the more sentimental. It was here, as he ran his fingers across the old painted letters, that Jeff felt for the first time that something was wrong. The first telltale sign was his heartbeat - he could not understand why his heart began beating increasingly faster with such short notice. His breath came out raggedly upon picking up the sounds of floorboards creaking dangerously close to him on the upper floor. Treading carefully, Jeff slowly backed away from the sound, cautious to whatever danger that may spring ahead. He briefly considered keeping the 12-pack with him, intent on bashing whatever came at him over the head with full force but, he decided against it - he'd rather not have anything hinder him for whatever situation might arise. So steadily, eyes still trained on the spot in front of him, Jeff set down the pack, pushing it behind the stack of boxes hugging the wall underneath his mural.

Through the dark corridors and open doors, he could only make out the shapes of piled furniture and other various immovable objects but, something else was there. Someone - _something_ \- was watching him, assessing his reactions with such an intensity that it left him shivering in tension. 

And then it happened.

A girl, she must have been in her mid-twenties, stumbled bleeding and gasping through the middle of the chalet. Her blood trickled steadily and soaked through the old carpet, her hand clutching at her wounded side as she rushed through the building. Jeff watches transfixed, subconsciously having inched closer to the railing, how her blond wavy locks flow against her face, swivelling with her head movements as she quickly glances back. It is this act that proves to be her grave mistake, as the girl finds herself stepping into the empty air of the lowered seating by the fire, plunging on the lowered floor with a grunt of pain. 

His heart jumps to his throat, terrified not just for himself, but the girl as well. What happened to her? Who inflicted that wound on her? 

Jeff is just about to call out to her, inquire if she's alright and whether he can help, but his voice catches in his throat when another figure steps into the foyer. The girl struggles to get back up on her feet, stumbling on the uneven floor, while a hooded figure treads lightly towards her, with the grace of a predator stalking its prey.

His hands clench around the railing as he's filled with anger. _What the fuck_, he thinks indignantly. It's just a fucking person. They're not even taller than him, hell, he could easily march over there and suplex their petite form.

Then... why is he struggling to stand up on his weakened knees? Why does he feel completely and utterly gripped with terror, breathing with difficulty and unable to take his eyes off of the hooded figure? His eyes catch sight of something glimmering in the hooded figure's hand and they widen when he realises that it's a bloody knife the fire roaring in the pit reflects. 

The girl whimpers just as Jeff's breath hitches, his eyes glued to the figure hunching into a menacing stance, poised to strike and he can't bear it anymore, he's got to do something, anything and-

"Hey!", he yells without even realising, his voice reverberating across the quiet enclosure, snapping everyone's attention towards his figure. He's chilled to find he can't see the hooded person's face, instead, staring into the visage of a white mask, two crudely wide circles drawn for the eyes, and an X covering the mouth, silencing it forever. 

The wounded girl briefly looks between them, before seeing the perfect opportunity to flee as the two seem transfixed with each other.

There's a certain chill that washes over Jeff, freezing him to the bone. Why does he feel like he knows this person? Why does he feel so utterly sad as they stare at them?

There's a similar coldness numbing Julie as she stares at the man on the upper floor, standing beneath their mural. It dawns on her that she knows this man who seems so old and different now, but somehow still unchanged. 

In the many trials and obstacles she's faced in this hell, for once, Julie hesitates to do her job. 

_It's not fair._

Jeff feels his heart settle in the pits of his stomach at the realisation that he's met this person before. A look of resignation settles on his face, unbeknownst to him, mirroring her own behind the cold white mask. He doesn't understand why he feels so utterly lost and damned.

_I'm sorry._

With heavy hearts, they begin the first of many chases.


	21. treasure

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i low-key like quentin and joey interacting

"You sure you good to do this?" Joey asks, a bit apprehensive. Quentin stands at his side, staring straight ahead through the fog at the shape of the abandoned pre-school. 

"Yes," his voice is steady, toneless, "I want you to know," his head moves a fraction, quickly glancing at the dark clothed killer before he averts his gaze back to the building, "there are a lot of skeletons in my closet, but I'm not sure you understand just how many there are."

Joey wraps his arm around Quentin's shoulder, bringing them close together, "I asked you about it, Quen. I want to know."

The dream walker stares into his eyes, eventually relenting to his determined gaze; he's chosen not to wear the mask this time, so the other could easily see his reactions and feel more at ease. To some degree, Joey suspects that it wouldn't even matter the state of his clothing, Quentin would always know how he feels.

They only stop once they've reached the broken-down door of the school, the wood rotten beyond recognition. Quentin seems to visibly tense now that he's back to the breeding grounds of his trauma. Joey doesn't want to push him so he opts to wait, his palm still resting on the other's shoulder, until the other feels ready to proceed. He's surprised when instead of going inside, Quentin madly dashes past him to the shrubbery by the side of the school. With confusion and unease, Joey watches Quentin dig madly through the dirt, muttering incoherently to himself. Just as he's about to lean down and hopefully shake him out of his craze, the other stops, raising shakily back to his full height.

"Treasure," he mumbles, dusting the dirt off of a very old crusty toy. When Joey asks for clarification, a tad confused at Quentin's sudden behaviour, he continues, "Krueger had this obsession with treasures. He'd play this game where he'd help us bury treasures around the gardens he would tend at school, and then we would all play a treasure hunt and try to find each other's toys."

_Seems pretty harmless_, Joey thinks, a bit unfazed as he watches Quentin's hand swipe at the dirt. An old batman figurine, the paint chipped away by time and the cold confines of its grave. 

"I buried this when I was five, I think," Quentin reveals, a sad smile masking his downcast eyes, "Batman was one of my favourites heroes." 

Joey watches how Quentin's fingers hesitate around the toy for one last time before his hands clench around its base tightly, tearing the plastic in half mercilessly. Under normal circumstances, he might have questioned his companion's actions. However, given the many fucked up details he pried into about Quentin's life, he'd be more worried if the other's reactions were anything but vitriolic. "He'd always keep his 'treasures' in his secret room."

There's something in Quentin's tone there, that gives Joey's goosebumps just from thinking about the implications of a grown man keeping a secret room. 

"I've tried destroying all the things that stayed behind before, but nothing here ever seems to disappear, "Quentin laughs tiredly before he turns back to look at him. "I've burned all his little 'treasures' so many times, but they always come back to haunt me. I can't get rid of my past but, "he sighs, his red eyes turning to stare into the dark corridor of the pre-school. Joey's hand clenches around his shoulder, reassuring that he's got his back, and Quentin seems to deflate, some of the tension leaving his shoulders as he turns to regard the other.

"But I can try to bear the burden with you," Joey completes the other's sentence, leaning in to press their foreheads together. 

As they step into the darkness of the building, a soft _thanks_ leaves the survivor's lips.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> and i maybe high-key like them being together


	22. ghost

What everyone else did in their spare time was their own decision. Julie's never been one to pry into the lives of others. Sure, she was curious, everyone was to some degree, and she'd keep tabs on their overall habits and lurking grounds, but Julie never actively went out of her way to spy on others.

Lately, someone else has been haunting the cold halls of Mount Ormond. A ghost, a shadow moving against the walls, only ever glimpsed in times of conflict or of stress. Julie's noticed irregularities: a wet footprint here, moved junk there. Susie complaining that she lost her favourite pen, Joey saying how he feels eyes trained on him, even when he's sure there's no one else in the resort at times. Even Jeff, who doesn't commonly have issues with roaming the woods alone, now prefers to travel together with one of them; unnerved ever since having discovered cryptic messages left behind for him.

Shifting bushes and broken branches.

Notes scribbled on perfumed paper, containing obscure details about his life or private conversations. 

The flash of a camera setting off in the dark.

And Frank, well, he's been awfully quiet throughout these whole ordeals. It's not her business who he fucks or gets fucked by anymore, they're all consenting adults in this complicated hellscape and they're all more than aware of each other's interests. But Frank's unbothered behaviour irks her, decidedly turning a blind eye to what's been happening outside his own bedroom. 

The atmosphere has been surprisingly calm lately. They've all enjoyed each other's companies, playing daring games and pranks on themselves. The fire roars in the pit, warming their blushing faces as they laugh at one of Frank's crude but saucy stories, animatedly retelling his latest trial. 

It's just, as she's lounging on the cushions, a smile lazying on her face, Julie sees it; like a shadowy wisp, retreating behind the wall on the upper floor. She's up on her feet in an instant, all previous mirth drained from her face as they all perk up and tense at her abrupt alertness. 

Frank takes a step forward, heading towards the stairs but he freezes mid-way, his attention glued to the bottom of the stairs. Joey asks _what is that_, joining at Frank and Julie's side while Susie hides behind her, nervously fidgeting with the collar of her sweater.

There's a box; a pristine pink box placed at the bottom of the staircase. A folded note lies on top and Julie can make out in cursive letters Frank's name on it. 

"What does it say," she demands, her jaw already clenching in anger.

_I wanted this to be special._  
_After all,_  
_You're my biggest fan._  


| _XOXO_  
---|---  
  
She reads the lines over Frank's shoulder before Joey can snatch the piece of paper away to read himself.

She already knows what her eyes will gaze upon.

Jeff's decapitated head stares back at them from inside the box, clean from the blood and residue. 

Frank stares wide-mouth and chilled into the petrified expression. 

Joey yells _What the fuck!_ as he backs away.

Susie screams her lungs out, falling to the floor.

And Julie, 

Julie stares right back into the lens of the camera as it goes off.


	23. ancient

"Oh my Gooooooooood," Frank muffles his groans in the palms of his hands. "You're an old fart! You're fucking ancient and boring!!"

"Shut up! You owe me this after you burned my fucking beard off you little shithead, "Jeff points an accusatory finger in Frank's direction, causing chuckles to spill past Susie's lips. The Wraith chuckles himself, albeit silently, the quick rise and fall of his shoulders being the only giveaway to his amusement. 

"It was a mistake! How was I supposed to know there was still spray in that can?!" Frank defends from his minuscule school desk, looking positively ridiculous. Susie sits in the seat in front of Frank, while the Wraith, bless him, opted to sit on the desk behind, not wanting to contort himself in ridiculous ways to attempt fitting in the child-size desks. Together they all sit in the middle row of the classroom, with the other two effectively trapping Frank in the middle and preventing him from being obnoxious.

"It doesn't fucking matter! You don't throw a fucking can of spray into a fire pit! And you don't fucking scream 'check this out' before you do it either!!" Jeff yells back, throwing a piece of chalk at Frank with great accuracy, hitting him square in the forehead and eliciting a loud yowl. Only his angry eyes and furrowed brows are visible, the lower half of his face covered up by one of Joey's bandanas, who's gracefully loaned it to him until he's comfortable enough to show his singed face. 

Taking a deep breath to calm himself, Jeff runs his other hand through his rough seared hair in an attempt to collect his thoughts. 

"As I was saying, there were two major panthea of gods, Aesir and Vanir," Jeff resumes his talk into mythologies, once Frank has quieted down again. 

Throughout all the squirming and fidgeting - and the shushings he gets from Susie or kicks to his shin from Philip - Frank finds himself paying attention when Jeff gets into the intricacies of Norse customs and war practices. 

The fact that Jeff draws and illustrates with every major event, does help him retain most of the information he's being presented. What's more, is that he absolutely perks up in delight when Jeff agrees to the answer he gives to a question posed. Towards the end of his torturous sentence, he finds himself eager to do the homework he was given, drawing his interpretation of Mimir's Well and Odin's pledge to drink from it. 

When he returns for the next lesson, eager to find out more and with mischievous new plans to annoy dear teacher Jeff, Frank's a tad miffed to find that there are more class members now than what they started with. Max and Adam have joined their ranks, and Frank gives the only other survivor a dirty look. The guy's a fucking talker and above all else snobbish and an apple-polisher. 

Drat, now he's actually gotta fight for Jeff's attention.


	24. dizzy

The ground is cold and unforgiving and his blistered hands grip at the dead grass. For just a moment, he's stopped to gather his strength, tired out from the bloodloss and his mad attempts at crawling away.

Laurie runs tirelessly, chased by her tormentor as he mercilessly tries to grab hold of her and end her life; Myers' failed to end his, instead, leaving him to bleed out on the gore-soaked tiles of the rancid abattoir. The trail of blood he left in his wake stands out on the pale tiles, the blood shimmering in the moonlight. But the trail ends there, the cornstalks on the outskirts of the building mask the rest of his struggles. 

Jeff drags himself closer to the cobbled walls surrounding the tree, stopping in the grass beneath the carved window.

He doesn't have much hope left, not after seeing Dwight get murdered next to him, a similar fate befalling David despite all his efforts to keep the beast at bay. Laurie is the only one who could stand a chance against the Shape, but Jeff fears he is hindering her more now in his weakened state. 

Now as he lays among the grass, inhaling the scent of rotten carcasses and tasting the copper on his cracked lips, Jeff can only think about his failures and mistakes. He struggles to keep his eyes open, the landscape swaying and duplicating in his tired eyes, dizzying him up the longer the attempts to focus on the blurring shapes. Vaguely he can make out a flurry of blues and yellow in the distance, the two invested in their deadly cat and mouse game, but it's getting increasingly harder for him to stay aware.

Jeff feels cold, so cold, despite the hot and dry air specific to these farmlands. His breath comes out raggedly, and in defeat, he lays his head down in the dark grass when he finds himself unable to sustain it upright anymore. With one eye, he tries to focus on the moving shapes, distant and unclear now.

There's a muted growl permeating through the air. The rotten carcasses hung among the branches sway slowly despite the lack of any wind. With one last shiver, be it from fright or the cold, Jeff closes his eyes for the last time.

When he reopens them, he does so with great difficulty and pain. There's a piercing ringing in his ears that gradually relents, his limbs feel leaden and numb, but there's a constant slap connecting against his face. After what feels like hours, Jeff's eyes blink open despite their unwillingness, staring into Laurie's bloody visage.

"What happened?" he asks in a broken voice.

"You bled out. I'm sorry," comes her reply, her eyes tired and sad.

"S'okay," he mumbles groggily, motioning for Laurie to help him up. Instead, he's a bit surprised to feel her settle on the forest floor with him, snuggling into his side. "Did you make it out?" he inquires once he stops feeling dizzy and nauseous from his deathlike slumber.

"Yes. The hatch opened up in the abattoir. He had me cornered for a moment, but I stabbed him in the throat," she reveals and Jeff finds himself unable to contain his laugh.

"Atta' girl."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i love laurie? i love laurie.


	25. tasty

"No one messes with me—I'm a little bit tasty, know what I mean?" David admits with a smirk, scratching the tip of his nose.

"I really don't," Joey replies absolutely horrified and confused.

"What flavour do you taste like, dick flavour?" Frank grins at his own dumb comment.

"What-" Jeff turns to look at Frank, blinking his eyes in quick succession as he tries to understand just what exactly his dumbass means.

"That sounds mega gay, Frank." Julie deadpans from her little corner of the log, ignoring the other's protests and attempts at defending his bad choice of words.

"Which one of you wankers wants to get yer gobs smacked in first?" David carries on, flexing his muscles and sticking out his bare chest, completely oblivious at the overall fun the others are having at his and Frank's expense. 

A couple of them, mainly most of the Legionnaires and a couple of other survivors such as Claudette, Jake, Jeff and Feng have gathered around their communal campfire. Most of them gathered at David's behest, who was gallivanting around, claiming that 'he's gonna show that daft wanker who wears the trousers around here'. Of course, after hearing that vague and highly questionable exclamation, they gathered to see what on earth exactly was David up to now. It was no surprise when it turned out that he was referring to none other than the Legion leader, who pulled quite the number on David, _twice_. 

"Wait so," Feng leans into Claudette to whisper for clarification, "why's he mad now?"

"I figured he was still mad about that time Frank stabbed him in the back, back when we didn't know for sure about the Legion. But I think he's just mad now that Frank made him look stupid when he hung out by our campfire." Claudette clarifies, watching them argue incoherently, while Jeff gravitates around them in attempts to stop anything serious from happening.

"Wait," Feng pauses, furrowing her eyebrows, "he was at our campfire? When was this?"

"Oh like, when Kate brought back that nice tartan blanket. Around then."

"Wait wait wait, how did I miss this? I don't remember this," Feng turns to stare at Claudette, confused.

"He was that stupid looking guy, Fester," Jake pipes in from the opposite end of the log. "He was wearing all those weird clothes, stood out like a massive idiot."

"Oh shit," Feng finally recalls. "That Addam's Family motherfucker."

"Uh-oh," Claudette exclaims when Frank yells 'Oh yeah?!' and begins stripping off his own jacket and hoodie. Claudette takes the opportunity to sneak over to Julie and Joey's log, Jake and Feng following behind quickly when the two start yelling in each other's faces.

"You're peckin' me 'ead, give your 'ead a wobble before I knock it off!" David warns, but it only serves to elicit a confused yell back from Frank.

"What does that even mean, you hoser?!" Franks challenges back.

The two troublemakers only bring entertainment to their audience, who make it a game betting who's going to get their ass handed to them first, or making mad guesses at what exactly the two are even saying. But their gossiping and cackling are cut short when they see Jeff hoisted in the air by Frank before David wrestles him for himself, all the while their victim yells in confusion and obvious fright, not understanding what exactly is happening.

"Oh no, they're measuring their dicks," Julie groans with a roll of her eyes as the two hotheads start marching towards their log, intent on proving they can easily lift them all.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> tfw your british friends tell u to have them fight in a greggs but there's no greggs in the entity's world :'(
> 
> also [ this was jeff ](https://66.media.tumblr.com/0bdbffd064b5557e283579489f7e3f80/tumblr_inline_nf09nbEyOQ1sin265.png)in those last moments when he's rag-dolled around


	26. dark

Most of the time, the only instances where Jeff would interact with any of the other Legionnaires would be when Frank would drag him along to the chalet with him, excluding, of course, the times when he would inevitably have to face any of them in trials. It had nothing to do with dislike, personal differences or fear; it was the fact that Jeff had always been quite shoddy at interacting with people in general, especially in groups or crowds. 

And, well, there was also the fact that he and Frank were now technically sort of dating? Or at least Jeff courted the idea and occasionally surprised the other with romantic gestures where he could. But it was this little detail, the fact that Frank had revealed their intimate relationship to his close friends, that made things a bit awkward between him and Julie. He doesn't know the intricacies of Frank and Julie's connection, all that he knows is that the two already had a tumultuous relationship, and him butting into the equation can't do it any good either.

While he muses these thoughts over, Jeff's hand fumbles along the wooden walls of the mine, his descent into the dark pit impairing his vision. Outside of trials, the mine was one of the best spots for them to get good shut-eye: the complete darkness and isolation of the pit, paired with the cool air and overall silence of the MacMillan lands, provided whoever found themselves here the privacy they craved. A quick click of his flashlight illuminates just enough of his path for him to gather his bearings and estimate how much longer until he reaches the hideout. 

It turns out that it's not that long after all. Once he's descended low enough until the dark around him is suffocating, Jeff turns the flashlight back on, illuminating the little camp set up at the end of the tunnel. There are but a few basic commodities here: a bedroll, a kerosene lamp they all barely use, a worn box of matches and a lighter, courtesy of Ace, and two journals - containing some of Baker's earlier ravings and studies into the Entity - even if no one ever came here with the intention to read. Gripping the flashlight with one hand, Jeff preps the bedroll, eager to finally get some time alone to think over and catch some sleep. Once he's snuggly rolled himself inside, his hands and upper body being the only parts still left out in the cold, he clicks the flashlight back off, succumbing to the darkness.

In these instances, where sleep would elude him but his body would ache too much to partake in other actions, Jeff lets his mind wander. Nowhere in particular, but his thoughts do seem to shift towards Frank and the others; their dynamics, both past and present interactions as well as his personal feelings towards them all. And now, how his integration to their group and the consequences his presence might have to their equation. 

With a groan, he brings his hands up to tiredly rub at his face. 

What a mess. It feels like he's back in high school, but this time he's at the centre of all those teenage love dramas he witnessed his peers struggle with.

Sighing, Jeff settles his hands back down on his chest, fingers clasped together snuggly. He should sleep, try and get some rest for now. After all, he had an eternity to figure out solutions to his issues.

It's cool and nice inside the mines. His high body temperature keeps him comfortably warm, while the bedroll does it's best to aid him in his sleep. Cold fingers settle around his wrist, reminding him of Frank's, and instinctively his other hand settles atop them, intent on warming them up. There's a presence settling at his side as an arm slowly wraps around his frame, pulling their weight halfway atop his to snuggle on his chest. Jeff sighs in content once they've both settled together, feeling himself slowly drift to sleep.

A cold wave of dread washes over him, as Jeff finally seems to realise that he was supposed to be alone.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> spoopy


	27. coat

Jake Park had faced countless trials in his long and never-ending torturous life. Together with a couple of other survivors, they were deemed veterans by the increasing number of victims joining this hell. He disliked being regarded so highly, even more so when he'd be sought out by the new members, begging for his advice and wisdom. More so he would hate getting close to them, knowing that inevitably, they wouldn't last: they would all eventually be twisted, turned, consumed by the Entity. He'd rather be alone - the crows occasionally keeping him company in his solitary life. Even if sometimes, he'd find himself accepting Claudette's healing touch when he'd mess up in a trial, Feng Min's snarky remarks at the expense of killers, or Dwight fussing over his well-being, making sure he's got enough supplies with him back in his treehouse. 

That's why it's all the more harrowing when one of them gets turned into a killer. Jake has lied to himself, again and again, that he will absolutely not care for anyone, he wouldn't fucking dare let anyone get close to him but - he's only human, after all. 

He's been bleeding for the past couple of hours, an angry gash horizontally splitting his torso in half, but Jake bears the pain through clenched teeth and sheer iron will. This whole fucking place is a nightmare. It's just a fucking house. It isn't even big, he can see the foyer, the lounge and the staircase leading to the upper floors - but every time he opens up a door, he finds himself in endless corridors, leading him in circles. All the doors lead back to the living room, but it's always a gamble finding the correct corridor back to the exits. 

Paintings line the walls, canvases upon canvases juxtaposed and blending into one another. He doesn't know whether the moving figures, bleeding and merging into horrifying visages, are a direct result of his bloodloss, or something worse. The walls bleed with colours, the coats of paint seem to seep directly from the walls in steady trickles as if they're bleeding the many shades and tones themselves.

Does the house weep of the horror it has seen? The soft cries of a woman permeate the air, louder in some parts. He hates how much they sound like the cries of his mother.

The solitary male rounds the corner ahead of him only to find himself in a dead-end. A blank canvas hangs on the wall in front of him. He's seen a couple of them already in this trial and he knows by now that they're different from the others. For now, he's safe. No painting mirroring his imperfections greets him back.

Underneath the painting lies a door built into the floorboards. Jake can discern scribbled words in shaky letters, _each mistake a pitfall_. Opening the door reveals the cellar of the house, with a generator gently idling in a corner by the wall, next to a grand piano. He doesn't hesitate in jumping down, knowing that somewhere, someone is being chased, judging by the rushing steps and uneven heartbeats ringing in his ears. 

There are no paintings in this room; he finds comfort in their absence.

Slowly his generator comes to life, unburdened by any interruptions. Jake leaves the cellar quietly, climbing up the stairs leading back to the lounge, intending on working on the generator located in the pantry. 

But he stops dead in his tracks upon reaching the open space. There's a canvas among the paint - or is it blood - coated walls. His own visage stares back at him, painted with striking accuracy and glaring back at him with a terrifying intensity. He rushes towards it, knowing that if it stays on for long enough it will soon transform again, portraying his death. 

The scarf around his neck does a wonderful job at smudging the colours, deforming his portrait until all that is left is a sea of dark colours. A sigh of relief leaves his lips as his head thunks against the dirty canvas - but it is shortlived. 

A shadow looms over him from above, making his blood turn cold in his veins. 

Sooner or later, he was bound to be found again. After all, he was the last man standing in this accursed labyrinth.

Jake Park turns to stare at the figure above, with clenched fists and dirtied clothes.

The Painter - formally known as Jeff Johansen - stares from the landing above, his form perpetually drenched and dripping in paints. Dead white eyes stare back into his conceded black orbs.

He doesn't run away when the killer begins to descend slowly towards him, as if sensing his defeat. 

For the last time, Jake lets the artist paint his portrait.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i'm a big fan of the game Layers of Fear, haven't gotten a chance to play the second one yet but the music in both of them is very good
> 
> i always imagined killer!jeff as some sort of paints and portrait focused killer, able to step into paintings he spawns with to traverse to set points on the map, as well as able to paint survivors portraits and have them killed if they don't clear their painting after a specific timer. but yeah that's just some ideas, a lot of inspiration for him came from layers of fear 1, game is really good if you're into horrors with story/visuals.
> 
> [ here's ](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ibtCYqrYIlo) what i thought would fit for his chase music


	28. ride

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> me love Maurice, very good horse.

"'Fucking hate that sleazy fat fuck," the Pig mutters through clenched teeth.

Julie doesn't blame her disdain towards the Clown. The man was absolutely disgusting to a degree where being in his presence alone would be enough to make even the Doctor hate being there. Besides, there was a very, specific way, in which Kenneth behaved that raised a lot of red flags to her. 

As she watches several individuals - killers and survivors alike - gathered around his travelling cart, Julie vows to keep a close eye on Susie's whereabouts, the latter frolicking around and inspecting the display stands, cardboard cutouts and the fortune teller. The pink-haired girl's attention seems to currently be completely enraptured by Maurice, the Clown's horse. It's this reason why they all currently huddle closer to the beast and its owner, enticing them all to try and tame his beast. It's how Kenneth licks his lips, coaxing them with big words and a velvet tone into riding his companion, promising them good rewards if they break the animal in - it's his behaviour that has Amanda riled up and Julie on edge. They've opted to not participate, instead, they chose to stay in the backline as to better observe how things will play out. They've both had enough experiences with nasty two-faced predators to know how things might sour quickly.

Meg had joked how she could easily break the horse in. She's already touched the animal in trials before so she believes she's formed a bond with the beast given its lack of negative reactions when petted by the athlete. But she's quickly proven wrong when not even a full minute on the back of the animal, Meg finds herself hurled through the air and into one of the cardboard cutouts. 

"Dumbasses. They shouldn't trust the fucking pig," Amanda growls again at Julie's side. 

With a gentle tilt of her head, the Legionnaire turns to regard her sour disposition and her tense posture, arms crossed tightly in front of her chest. Her response is but a hum of approval, as she returns her attention to the crowd ahead.

Next to try their hand is Ash, who barely manages to settle on the horse's back before he's already flying off of it with a shrill scream. The scene elicits a loud cackle from the Clown, which in turn turns into a series of disgusting coughs.

David King volunteers next, confidently proclaiming that he can last at least five whole minutes on the back of the crazed beast. Both women very much doubt that statement, suspecting that the animal must have gotten some 'recreational' influence from the Clown, who grins wickedly as he holds the beast steady by the head. There's no way he didn't give the horse anything. The old nag lies lifelessly by his caravan all the time in trials, rarely getting up to trot around the premises of the church. There's just no fucking way it's this wild.

While David struggles to get a proper grip in the horse's mane, Julie's attention shifts to Susie, who's turned to stare at her with pleading eyes. Maintaining mask-to-mask contact, the pink-haired girl raises a finger slowly to point at the scene before her, then turning to point at herself. Hoping to appease her soulmate more, her hands lastly come together in a pleading fashion while she attempts to look as humble as possible. 

Having watched the unfolding scenes as well, the Pig only snorts in laughter when Julie shakes her head negatively and Susie feigns despair before flipping them off and returning her attention to the scene begrudgingly. 

The Clown's laughter resonates across the realm when David eventually gets thrown off as well. Julie can only sigh at the rigged game. The Pig doesn't - instead, continuing to brood and sneer insults towards the clown. But as David and Meg begin arguing about the unfairness of the game and the ridiculous animal, someone else steps up to the challenge. 

A hush of silence settles on the rowdy crowd. With determined steps, Kate Denson walks towards the animal, immediately reaching up to pet up at its burned snout and flaring nostrils, disregarding the rough condition of its skin or its skittish behaviour. 

"May I have a go at your fine horse, sir?" she asks, in the most southern accent Julie has ever heard anyone speak. 

The Clown only snickers as he beckons her over with an open hand. Meg and David start a string of protests, trying to talk their friend out of it, but Kate is determined. She hops up onto the animal's back by herself with little help and before they know it, they're off into their bucking dance. 

At first, everyone is silent, anticipating the moment when the girl would get bucked off; but the longer Kate seems to last on the animal's back, the more the others start cheering for her, calling her name with praise. Julie's eyes are trained on the girl's figure, completely mesmerised. There's something about the girl that _really_ keeps her captivated: the way her hair moves, swaying around her head as she maintains her balance; the calm look and the knowing smirk that permeates her face; her fluid motions as she sways and bucks against the opposing force of the animal, which by now has begun slowing down. 

Maurice gives a few last powerful thrusts before it slows down to a stop, tired from its many attempts at dislodging the persistent rider.

The crowd around them goes wild, rushing to Kate once she hops off from the horse's back. The Clown stares for a brief few moments, impressed and with a wicked gleam in his dark eyes. 

"Not gonna lie," The Pig breaks their silence, shifting on her feet, "that was very hot."

"Yeah," Julie can't help but agree, "it was."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> honestly? same Amanda


	29. injured

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> oof, not exactly dubious content but i guess it can be a bit heavy if you've experienced abuse

He still thinks about that night. 

He'd think about it late at night when he would be alone in his shoddy studio apartment, vividly recalling the events which transcribed with bated breath and clenched fists. 

Sometimes he would wake up drenched in sweat, his scar throbbing painfully as his eyes would dart nervously across the room.

It took an excruciatingly long time until he learned how to live with it: the pain, the flashbacks, the triggers. The guilt - he's never really quite gotten over that and he probably never will.

It took Jeff Johansen nearly five whole years to come to terms that some wounds will never heal, no matter how much time they're given to mend. They would only scar over, until one day that scab would be torn open again to reveal the ugly mess underneath. 

And now, here, in this hell, he finds himself unable to think about anything else but his regrets. With every new cut, every new bruise and injury, each trial passed, Jeff finds himself increasingly unhinged as time and time again he thinks about those years in his life. 

He hides it very well though. It's always come easy to him, hiding his own pain. He used to have so many distractions back in the real world - painting being his most successful outlet. He'd gotten very good at giving other's advice as well, it's much easier to get absorbed and invested in other's struggles in order to avoid your own. But now, as he's forced to go through the same motions with the same people, there is nothing - nothing - he can do to keep himself from falling down that rabbit hole again.

And then, he meets him again. 

_Frank Morrison_. 

And suddenly, there's someone else plaguing his thoughts as he lies awake by the campfire. 

_Frank Morrison_.

Someone else he spends his time with. Someone he's looking forward to seeing after every trial. 

_Frank Morrison_.

Someone Jeff sometimes is scared of, scared because he thinks things might have been different if he stayed behind. Different for the both of them. 

_Frank Morrison_.

Someone who hurts him so much, physically and emotionally. Someone who breaks his heart so much in so many ways, but he's such a stupid sucker for the pain. Someone Jeff manages to bring out the best in them, but nonetheless someone who brings out the worst in Jeff as well.

Jeff Johansen thinks that maybe he can help him, for he sees the same hurting man he used to be. An injured man, bearing an ugly scar that will never heal, only scab. And maybe, just maybe, Jeff believes that his injury will likewise, subsequently heal if he does him this good deed. 

Even though it takes him dying to so, his soul slowly consumed by an eldritch God. Regardless whether sometimes it takes him violently dying at the hands of the same person he's aiding, believing that his death can maybe help him even if it's just a bit. 

Even if unbeknownst to him, that person may just be taking advantage of his naivety, taking twisted pleasure out of using him for their entertainment. Even when they eventually correct some of their wicked ways, choosing not to hurt him anymore at the expense of their own well-being. 

And then when they eventually resume their deadly game, Jeff Johansen doesn't mind what happens to his injured form once he's given his last breath. 

As long as it can help Frank Morrison. 

Jeff Johansen is an injured man, digging himself a grave. 

And sometimes Frank Morisson digs his own grave, adjacent to his.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> yes, i am trying to summon Frank from the grave like you would summon Beetlejuice with how many times i've written his name in this chapter alone
> 
> but yeah, don't stay in abusive relationships for the sake of the abuser. reach out to other for help, even if it's just a shoulder to cry on or an ear to listen to. 
> 
> take care of yourselves, someone loves you out there.


	30. catch

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> a bit of a serious and a bit of a cheesy chapter

"I'll catch you, Julie, you know I will," Jeff beckons with open arms from behind her.

"I know, I know," she reaffirms, but somehow Julie can't bring herself to relax. Her body is tense, muscles wired as Jeff patiently awaits behind her, outstretched arms in preparation to catch her falling form. But she can't bring herself to let go. Ever since that one night, Julie hasn't trusted anyone else but herself. She made a vow that night, as she walked by herself in the snowstorm and her ruined clothes, to become the strongest person she could ever be. No one would dare fuck with her again after that.

Absorbed in her thoughts and indecisions, Julie flinches when the other places a hand on their shoulder, quickly removing it when faced with her reaction.

"It's ok," Jeff reassures her while his calm understanding eyes bore into hers, "we can try again next time."

"No, it's-" she tries to explain, but the words get stuck in her throat. Her face flares up a darker shade, breaking the illusion of porcelain skin she carries. Frustration is such an ugly feeling, one she's so accustomed to - just like disappointment. "It's just - hard. I can't put my trust in anybody. It has nothing to do with you," the words leave her lips with great delay. 

The artist's eyes sadden for the slightest moment, perhaps understanding the source of Julie's struggles given their familiarity with each other. Gently he offers her his hand, his brown orbs lighting up upon feeling her delicate hand joining his. 

"Trust is a confusing thing," Jeff starts as he walks them back to the firepit in the chalet, "it seems so simple, but when you try to pin it down, it can be elusive." 

Julie listens, half attentive and half bitter regardless, unwanting to be lectured on a topic so sensitive to her; but Jeff's other hand envelopes her own - as if to plead 'bear with me, please' - and Julie relents tiredly as they take a seat by the fire.

"I think of if it like the way that my body sits on a surface that's new to me, unknown. And how my muscles remain tight, anticipating anything, and I'm constantly aware of that surface. Over time, I can relax and start to lean back. But for so many of us, that initial tension exists for the rest of the time." Jeff's calm voice carries out throughout the empty chalet.

Julie finds herself more attentive now, enthralled by his steady voice. She finds herself relating to his expression, familiar with the tension - and how it is attributed to trust.

"It's a tragedy when your trust is broken," he resumes solemnly, "one betrayal can make you think of all the other ones just waiting for you in things you haven't done yet or the things you haven't thought of, or worse, the people you rely on, "Jeff hesitates, his gaze fixing painfully on a point ahead of them, "and I know, you feel yourself tensing up - bracing for that fall. And then in the worst case, you'll decide to trust no one. But that doesn't really work, does it?" 

Julie finds herself struggling to steady her breathing, her eyes stinging from the tears threatening to spill past her lashes. Instinctively her expression sours, but she resolves to cast her eyes elsewhere when Jeff turns to regard her with that knowledgeable look of his.

"Trust is your relationship with the unknown, what you can't control. And you can't control everything. None of us can, Julie." 

Julie closes her eyes, feeling his lips ghosting over her knuckles before his hands resume the steady stroking of her own.

"Trust is a slow and steady practice. Learning about the capacity of the world. And it's worth it - to keep trying."

A heavy sigh leaves the other's chest, catching Julie's attention again. She can see the hesitance in his eyes, feeling that this topic is one Jeff has struggled with in the past himself. 

"When I was younger and angry towards my mother, I confided into her about my lack of trust. How I felt that I couldn't trust anything due to her and my father, not after their fights, the violent outbursts, my dad's aggression towards my mom - her refusal to acknowledge the pain it caused us," he confides, his features lifting into a sad smile, "truth be told, what I've told you are all her words."

Her heart throbs just the slightest, recognising that these words did not come very easy for Jeff to impart with. Her hand gives him the gentlest of squeezes before she intertwines their fingers together.

"Trust is like a fork, she used to say to me - not one way, but many. Physical, emotional, and maybe something else too. I used to imagine it as these hands that we would extend out into the world, looking for someone to hold as we walk out into the unknown," he leans into her warm side, coiling their hands together, "I trust you. And I trust that you know I love you." 

Jeff bends down to give her a chaste kiss, leaving Julie disheartened at the absence of his lips when they eventually part away.

"I'll be out there in the unknown, waiting for you to reach out. I promise that, Julie." 

Julie's bittersweet smile is her only response, as she cradles his face in her palm.

One night, when Julie finds herself alone once more on the premises of the resort - the quiet and melancholic creaks of the old building soothing her lonely soul - she exits her room to stargaze onto her balcony. 

Usually, there are no stars in Ormond, but tonight the sky is darker than usual, a rare treat if one might endeavour to notice. It's snowing, of course, fake symmetrical snowflakes blanketing the frozen ground before they inevitably melt. The wind picks up in speed and Julie can smell it - the air crisp and sharp, a storm brewing fast. 

Her eyes catch a hint of a moving figure among the white, and she can't seem to stop the smile forming on her lips when she sees Jeff wave to her once he notices her back. Her heart picks up in speed as she thinks about him, his words still echoing through her mind from all those other nights before. The wood of the bannister creaks underneath her clenched hands, a copper taste between her lips when she bites into her cheek, conflicted amid her thoughts.

A look of worry passes over Jeff's face when he sees Julie climb over the railing, and he finds himself quickening his pace. But upon nearing the chalet, he breaks into a full-blown sprint as Julie let's go of the bannister, plunging to the floor below.

Jeff barely catches her body before he falls to the ground with her weight on top of his, her form held tight against his own. His heart threatens to break out of his chest with how fast and hard it beats - Jeff thinks that under normal circumstances he would have had a heart attack at the events that just transpired. He doesn't let go of his hold: not even when her hands reach back to hug him, holding him as tightly as he does. Not even when she peppers kisses to his beard and cheeks, or when she buries her face in his chest. It's only when his heart has settled and his breaths are not laborious anymore, that Julie pulls back to stare into his eyes.

"I promised I'll catch you," he says, slight annoyance in his voice, "but please don't throw yourself off the balcony for me again. You're going to give me a heart attack before I know it Julie-".

He's silenced by a pair of lips covering his own, his worry dissipated in the blink of an eye. 

They lose themselves into their kiss, consumed by their intense reciprocal affection. 

That night, Julie thinks they didn't just make love - the ardent passion that brought them together felt like a defining moment in her life. 

It feels like her hand has finally grasped someone else's in the unknown.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i've struggled with trust for a very long time. a few years ago i've stumbled over [ this ](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=cWypWe9UAhQ) video, and i can say that it has definitely helped me grow as an individual.
> 
> if anyone else out there reads this and struggles too, i hope it can bring you some understanding and peace as it once brought me.


	31. ripe

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> here we go again, one last time.

He's been having those dreams again.

The ones where he's just moved into Ormond and he's abandoned to his own devices by his new stepfather; where he'd rather shove a pencil in the fucker's throat just so he could see the alcohol pouring out through the holes as he chokes on blood and liquor. 

The ones where he's back in Ormond before it all began; when the coolest thing to do was to smoke cigarettes and flip off punks trying to dictate to him how to live his life.

The dreams where he's barely escaped the cops when they caught sight of him stealing from the store, huddled by the garbage bins and reeking of rotten food and compost - a wicked smile twitching to life for the first time on his face.

The ones in which he's getting into fights over the dumbest of things, just to flex and show he's got the balls to do it - a display of cockmanship. 

Dreams where he's back in Ormond, and he's found the perfect bunch of gullible teens for him to shape and mould into his own image, ripe for the picking; with each passing day, pushing them further and further, daring them to increasingly vile acts, but never anything too serious - after all, they're still young and unrefined, he's got some work to do. 

The ones where he's just starting his destructive spree of vandalism, manipulation and terror, having just been kicked out of the basketball team - one of the few things that still meant something to him, now gone just like that, just because he stood up for himself. 

The sweet dream where he's just killed somebody for the first time, albeit with a little help, though they all know it was really Frank Morrison who dealt the killing blow, damning them all that night. 

And then the nightmares, at first pledges wrapped in honeyed promises of bloodshed and violence at his every whim, victims aplenty for him to take his sadistic hatred on. What once was a world ripe for his taking, turned into a hollow shell with nothing but the same faces, over and over again - the illusion he had on them all gone as they stare at him with resentment and hatred. 

Would it have mattered if he never killed that janitor? Perhaps Frank Morrison was doomed from the start, his destiny written in the stars the second his lungs took in that very first breath of air.

What if he never came to Ormond, what if someone else took him instead of Clive Andrews? Then perhaps they would have all stood a chance - or maybe they would have doomed each other all over again in so many other different ways.

Would things have been different, if he was never born in that dysfunctional family that starved him, beat him, tormented him for years until tragedy struck again? Or was it a blessing that his mother died and the authorities took his father away - putting him into that circle of foster homes to perpetuate his trauma.

What's certain is that Frank is about to wake up from his slumber. His dirty mattress lies damp underneath him, sweat-soaked from his feverish dreams as he twists and turns in his sleep. The room is freezing, snow piles up at his window sill and spills inside his room, wetting the discarded piles of dirty clothes he shoved away the previous night.

When Frank Morrison finally rouses from his sleep, he does so with great annoyance and chattering teeth, getting up to hobble over to the open window and slamming it shut in place. 

He stares for a brief moment at the white landscape outside his window, taking in the quiet of the early morning; his father's car missing from the driveway as he's no doubt already left for his menial job. He doesn't want to go to school today, so he considers skipping just to lay in bed, his body tired beyond belief. 

But as he jumps back underneath the old covers, huddling for warmth, he considers going for basketball practice and the class before that. Was it art class? Yeah, he remembers the old teacher's fucked off after he relentlessly gave them shit and bullied them - old hag deserved it. Should be someone new now, at least temporarily while they find someone else to fill in the old position. 

His last conscious thoughts before he drifts to sleep are of the new teacher, wondering how they will be like, and musing over new ways to torment them. Frank falls back to sleep with a smile on his face, hoping it will be a man, someone to prove quite challenging for him to clash against.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> and we're done! 31 days and 31 stories! 
> 
> thanks for sticking till the end! i hope some of these brought you joy, humour, kept you in suspense or evoked any other emotion you enjoyed
> 
> the closing paragraphs are referencing an idea [ eymelee ](https://archiveofourown.org/users/eymelee/pseuds/eymelee) has strung up to me, an au where Frank and the others are never taken by the Entity and remain in Ormond. the only catch, however, is that jeff is middle-aged and serves as a father figure for our misfit, helping him change his lifestyle.
> 
> i would like to thank eymelee once again for supporting and encouraging me to keep on writing, and always keeping me on my toes with her own amazing works! i've enjoyed writing these bits and background pieces for the main fic very much and would surely like to do more in the future!
> 
> if there's any questions let me know!
> 
> for now, i hope you've all had a happy halloween! take care of yourselves!


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